


Everyone But Yourself

by yumekuimono



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aesir are racist, Author does what she wants, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, CA:TWS happens first, Dating, Grief/Mourning, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Lokitty, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shapeshifter Loki, You can't tell me otherwise, background Sam/Tony, but the order of the movies is switched, except for the very end of TDW, not permanent, otherwise compliant with both, really background Steve/Sharon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumekuimono/pseuds/yumekuimono
Summary: After faking his death on Svartalfheim, Loki finds himself back on Midgard, this time as a cat. Bucky, meanwhile, is living in Avengers Tower trying to make a recovery after his liberation from HYDRA. When he picks up a black cat in an alley, he has no reason to suspect that it's really an Asgardian sorcerer in disguise. Loki has no reason to trust the Avengers. And yet, both of them quickly become indispensable to the other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself." -Frigga, to Loki, _Thor: The Dark World_
> 
> **Huge** thanks to [silverink58](http://silverink58.tumblr.com) for allowing me to use their artwork in this fic! Go give them your love.

Bucky came back to himself huddled in a grimy alleyway underneath the rain. His clothes were sodden and it stank of wet trash. Taking a few deep breaths, he wiped his hands off the best he could on his jeans and then dragged them down his face. He had no recollection of how he had ended up here, only that he’d been talking to Steve and something had set him off, he didn’t even know what, and he’d had to get away. His heart was pounding, and he took several more breaths, trying to focus on the sound of the rain. He glanced around the alley and found several dumpsters, various emergency exits and backdoors, some flattened cardboard disintegrating in a puddle. No other people. He was alone, no one had found him. He needed to get back to the Tower. He would be safe there.

A plaintive meow at his elbow startled him. Tucked under the meager shelter of a fire escape with him was a black cat, equally soaked but seeming not to notice, looking up inquisitively at him. Bucky found himself leaning towards it.

“ _Privyet kotyenok_ ,” he whispered. His voice was rough. He couldn’t tell if he’d been crying since everything was wet with the rain. He hoped he hadn’t been screaming.

The cat sniffed his fingers cautiously when he held them out, nose bumping against the metal. Its tongue flickered out to lick them briefly. Bucky reached out to scratch it under the jaw and it let him, leaning into the pressure slightly. On impulse, he reached out and picked it up, cradling it against his chest. It didn’t resist, resting passively in his arms and getting wet fur all over his shirt. Bucky hugged it close, another living thing in the here and now, warm and real.

“Okay, _kotyenok_ ,” he told it. “We’re going to find the Tower. It’ll be safe there, and dry.”

He got to his feet and edged closer to the end of the alley. What few pedestrians there were on the sidewalk beyond hurried past, their heads bowed under black umbrellas. No attention was paid to the scruffy, soaked man standing off to the side holding a cat. Bucky made his way to the corner, found a street sign. He wasn’t too far away from the Tower, and sure enough, glancing up he could see its sleek profile rising from the buildings around it. He started walking, the black cat secure in his arms. A block from the Tower, Natasha found him.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, touching her earpiece. “Steve, I’ve got him.”

Bucky cringed a little, feeling guilty.

She took him around to the back entrance that led directly to the Avengers’ private elevator. Only once inside did she seem to notice the cat.

“Where’d you find that?”

“Alley.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t already belong to somebody?”

Bucky glanced down at the animal in his arms. It wasn’t wearing a collar. “I don’t know. I’ll find out. I just want to dry it first.”

Natasha nodded. “You alright?”

“Fine.”

She left him at his floor, and Bucky carried the cat into his bathroom, setting it down and closing the door behind him so it wouldn’t escape. He peeled out of his wet clothes, hanging them over the curtain rod for the shower. He could probably just put them in his dryer, but it didn’t feel right when it wasn’t a whole load. His boots went against the heating vent, and he dried himself off with one of the Tower’s superfluously fluffy towels, grateful for it just this once. Grabbing a hand towel and seating himself on the floor, he dried off the cat too. Again, it let him without complaint, merely shaking itself a little when he was done. Bucky let the cat out of the bathroom and then pulled his stuff out of his wet pants pockets and went into his bedroom to change into dry clothes.

Steve called while he was getting dressed, and Bucky deflected his offer to come by. He didn’t much feel like company at the moment, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as he pulled on fresh jeans.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be okay, really, Steve. Listen, if you’re still out, can you find a pet store for me? I brought back a cat. No… No, I just need some food or something. A brush maybe, ’s all. Thanks.”

He hung up and wandered into his living room to find the cat curled on top of the heating vent asleep. He dropped onto his couch, staring at nothing in particular. The next thing he knew JARVIS was telling him Steve had arrived with his pet supplies. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

 

Loki hadn’t meant to end up back in Stark Tower. He hadn’t meant to end up in New York City at all, really. He’d seen his chance on Svartalfheim, faking his death and teleporting himself to Midgard, where they would be unlikely to look for him. He’d taken the form of a housecat, small and unassuming, and a good enough disguise to throw off any magical searches for him. Only then did he realize that he’d arrived in Midgard at the same place he’d left it. He’d considered going somewhere else, to another city where he’d never been, but he couldn’t seem to be able to muster up the energy for it. He was so tired. He couldn’t be bothered to count how many days he spent scrounging in back alleys, sleeping under dumpsters and slinking away whenever another stray or even a particularly large rat challenged him for the scraps of food he’d found. Even that felt like too much work, and more than once he’d gone to sleep with hunger gnawing at him rather than look for anything to eat. He would still rather die than return to Asgard, but now that he was safely away, he found himself aimless and drifting. Eventually he was forced to admit that he’d be better off if he found some soft-hearted human to impress himself on.

It was dumb luck that the man darted into the same alley in which Loki was huddled underneath a dumpster to avoid the rain, his movements trained and controlled but apparently half-blind. The man’s shoulder hit the brick wall, and he slid down to sit on the filthy ground, knees pulled up and body shaking. Loki crept out to sit next to him. He knew that he should make himself look pitiable to increase his chances of being taken care of, but he’d played so many games lately, put on so many masks and been versions of himself that he didn’t really mean. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than watch with detached curiosity as the man hyperventilated, sobbing out half-intelligible phrases in Russian and English and a smattering of other languages, his hands scrabbling at the ground and the fabric of his jeans and up to cover his head. When it seemed he’d calmed somewhat, taking notice of his surroundings for the first time, Loki meowed and the man startled. He held out metal fingers, and Loki sniffed at them as a real cat should, tasting when he was unable to get a good scent. The man picked him up, and Loki let him. He got up and started walking without putting Loki down and that was good. He hoped he was being taken somewhere good.

When the man was met by the Black Widow and guided into Stark Tower, some distant part of Loki’s mind noted that there was no way this situation could end well. He was an enemy of the Avengers and they would surely turn him over to Asgard if they found out who he really was. He was so tired, though, deep and heavy in his bones, and he couldn’t seem to care. The man took him into an apartment and toweled him off, leaving his fur uncomfortably rumpled. He didn’t have the energy to groom himself. When he was let out of the bathroom, he explored only far enough to find a vent in the floor through which hot air blew, and he laid down on top of it to go to sleep. He hoped vaguely that the man would have food for him when he woke.

There was food, some sort of ground meat product from a can, but it was better than nothing and he ate it without complaint. When he was picked up again he didn’t resist. He was settled in the man’s lap and a brush was run gently through his fur. The repetitive motions were soothing and he drifted, half-aware of the conversation between the man and Captain America.

“…sure I’m fine…”

“…pet store said they’d be happy to put up a poster…”

The Captain’s name was Steve. He’d known that. The other man’s name was Bucky. It was a silly name, he thought.

“…is it fixed?”

There was a faraway flash of indignation as his hind leg was pulled up, but it didn’t linger long.

Bucky didn’t stop stroking him even after all the knots had been smoothed out of his fur and there was no reason to keep brushing it. His hands and the sound of his voice were nice.

“…says nowadays there’s microchips implanted, maybe…”

He was picked up again, carried into the elevator. When they stepped out into the riot of Tony Stark’s laboratory, Loki snapped alert, tensing.

“Hey Tony, have you got anything that’ll scan for a microchip?”

“Sure, put it over there.”

Loki was set down on a table, and he crouched as hands held him still, his heart beating wildly. If they were going to find him out it would be now. He hoped the transformation was enough to make his energy signature unrecognizable, hoped that Stark’s technology wouldn’t be good enough to pick up on it, that it wouldn’t be looking. His tail swished anxiously and he fought to keep his ears from flattening. He didn’t know what would happen, only that he couldn’t go back to Asgard.

“DUM-E, go away, you’re frightening the kitty-cat. I’ll give you something to play with later.”

If he could have, Loki would have laughed.

“I detect no chips or other identity or tracking devices, Sir. Scans indicate that while underfed, this is an otherwise healthy adult male housecat.”

Loki nearly sagged in relief. He was scooped up again.

“Alright, thanks, Tony.”

He was taken back to the apartment and placed in Bucky’s lap again, but this time he could not enjoy being pet. He couldn’t stay in the Tower if he wanted to remain hidden. Sooner or later they would find out who he was and his precious freedom would be gone again. Mustering the will to go back to the streets was daunting, though. He was reluctant to give up access to somewhere clean and dry, where he would be fed and could sit and have his fur stroked. One night surely couldn’t hurt. They had no suspicions as of now. He slept on top of the vent again, and when the first rays of sunlight woke him, he ate the rest of the food that had been left out. Then he made himself leave. He would have to find someone else to take him in.

 

Bucky found he liked petting the cat, liked the weight and warmth of it in his lap. It was soothing, and it helped keep him grounded in the present. It was something soft, something gentle for him to do. Sometimes he needed that reminder.

He ended up talking to Steve anyway, and reluctantly agreeing to make signs asking if anyone owned the cat. The cat—it was definitely male—had no ID and wasn’t neutered. The chances of it being anyone’s pet were pretty low, although once dry and fed it was an elegant creature, nothing at all like the scrappy tomcats Bucky remembered from the streets of his childhood. He found himself secretly hoping that no one responded to claim him. So it was a strange mix of feelings when the next morning he couldn’t find it at all. He hadn’t been looking forward to the interpersonal interaction required to find out if the cat belonged to someone, even though that outcome would have been easier. As much as Bucky would have liked to keep him, he was also dreading everything that would have entailed, from veterinary visits to buying supplies. He was looking underneath all of his furniture when he thought to ask JARVIS if the AI knew where the cat was.

“He has not been in the Tower for some time, Sergeant Barnes,” came the response.

“Oh.”

In the end, though, the cat didn’t really belong to him.

That evening Bucky was sitting on the couch, running his thumb over the bristles of the brush Steve had bought and trying not to lose any more time, when the cat jumped up into his lap.

 

Loki felt in some abstract sense that he should hate himself for being so weak as to return to the Tower despite all of its risks. But he felt tired and dull and desperate, and all he wanted was to sleep and to forget that he’d ever had a past. He couldn’t face going out and trying to scrape together enough food each day, trying to find somewhere decent to sleep where he would be undisturbed. He couldn’t even begin to think of trying to get somebody to notice him in the crush of people hurrying by, hoping they’d take him home. In the same way that he’d found himself staying in New York without really deciding to, he found himself returning to the apartment.

When he jumped up into Bucky’s lap, the man broke out into a smile that transformed his face. Instead of letting Loki sit, Bucky picked him up and pulled his feet up onto the couch, cuddling him close, his face tucked against Loki’s fur. It was nice for a while, until it began to feel claustrophobic, but he didn’t have the energy to escape. It took him a few minutes to remember his voice and then he meowed plaintively, pitifully.

Bucky let him down onto his lap, smoothing out his fur. “Sorry, _kotyenok_. I thought you were gone. You want food?”

He put Loki to the side on the couch so he could stand, and Loki jumped down and trailed after him into the kitchen. He hadn’t actually eaten since the morning and he hunkered gratefully in front of the bowl Bucky placed on the floor for him. He slept on the vent again that night.

Loki spent three full days living in Bucky’s apartment. He slept on the living room vent, in a patch of sunlight in front of the bay windows, or on Bucky’s lap with fingers running through his fur. He ate twice a day. He didn’t do much more than that. Bucky spent a lot of time out of the apartment, at therapy or in the gym or the workshop, or sometimes with the rest of the Avengers. On the fourth day, Loki was alone again when he was seized by the need to go outside. His prison cell in Asgard had been like this, not much to do but eat and sleep, clean and quiet. He needed to know that this was not an elaborate illusion, needed to know that he was free.

He left the apartment and made his way to the park on whose edge he’d stood when last leaving this realm. This time he made his way inward, treading over grass and dirt, smelling the city, smelling plants and living things. He could hear seagulls and children playing and the horrible Midgardian traffic. He clawed his way up a tree, as high as he could, and watched the clouds through the shifting leaves. Then even that wasn’t enough and he left his feline form to take to the sky, his broad wings lifted on thermals from exhaust and sun-warmed concrete. He rose past the tallest buildings, and his sharpened eyes could see the horizon stretching out for dozens of kilometers. He hovered there until the sun began to slip behind the earth and the city started to cool. Then he tumbled down, the wind in his feathers, before he caught himself on four legs on the floor of Bucky’s apartment.

 

Bucky grinned when he found the cat in his apartment again. It felt strange on his face. He scooped the cat up, resisting the urge to curl around it like a child’s favorite toy since it hadn’t liked that last time. Bucky supposed he could relate.

“Hi, _kotyenok_. Do you want to come to movie night with me?”

Steve beamed at him when Bucky came into the common room carrying the cat and sat himself in the deflated old armchair in the corner that had the best sightlines to the doors and windows. “I thought your cat was gone again, Buck.”

He shrugged. “It came back.”

“Pretty sure there’s a song about that,” Tony remarked from where he was pouring drinks behind the bar.

“You sure it’s a good idea to let it out without it being fixed or with a collar or anything?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know how he gets in and out. Anyway, he’s not really mine.”

“If you say so.”

“What’s the movie tonight, guys?” Bruce changed the subject.

“Well, tonight’s another ‘Educate the Elderly’ night,” Tony answered, coming around to the seating area. “So classics, no explosions.”

“Aw, man,” Clint whined, having come into the room just in time to hear the end of that statement.

“Don’t be a baby,” Natasha told him. “It’ll build character. And I got you your three different kinds of cracker jack so you can eat them all at once, you monster.”

“You’re the best, Nat.”

The conversation continued on as the team settled into place, and Bucky faded back into being a silent observer. The cat just curled up in his lap and went to sleep.

 

Loki continued to return. Eventually he decided to forget worrying about it. It was too much work to think about leaving for good every time he went out when all he wanted was to spend some time staring at the horizon thinking about nothing. He wasn’t here to be himself anyway. He was just a pet cat. He slept and ate and did what he wanted and nobody expected any different of him. Bucky sat with him and occasionally took him to team gatherings where other people would give him attention but mostly just let him sleep. Perversely, it was the most honest he’d felt in years.

He didn’t mind Bucky’s screaming nightmares and flashbacks, and especially didn’t mind the way he would sit and stroke his fur for hours afterwards. He didn’t remember the last time someone had shown him unconditional affection, nor the last time someone had sought him out for comfort. He hadn’t realized how much he needed it. Bucky started taking him to bed with him after his nightmares, and Loki didn’t mind that either. He simply settled at Bucky’s shoulder until the man was asleep again and then climbed onto the small of his back and slept there instead.

When Loki returned to the apartment one evening to find Bucky curled shaking in a corner, it felt natural to squeeze under his arm into the space between his chest and legs. He started purring loudly, ignoring the way Bucky was getting his fur damp. Eventually, the man shifted to actually holding him, rubbing his fingertips back and forth in Loki’s fur in tiny motions. He sniffled a little more in between taking calming breaths.

“ _Spasibo_ , _kotyenok_ ,” Bucky whispered.

He spent the rest of the evening carrying Loki around, and Loki felt a little bit like a security blanket, but that was fine. He would have spent the time sleeping on Bucky’s lap anyway. He did have to remind Bucky to feed him, but he ate quickly and climbed back into Bucky’s arms when he was done. Bucky needed him and didn’t pretend otherwise. He _wanted_ Loki and Loki didn’t have to do anything to earn it other than simply be there. He was quickly coming to seriously consider staying like this.

 

 

Bucky cut his workout short and went back to his floor, relieved to find the cat still there. He’d carried it around the evening before and cuddled it in bed, but he’d left it behind that morning to do his usual routine. He’d been okay for a while, but he should have known that what with the major episode last night it wouldn’t last. By this time the cat was more or less trained to sit in his lap whenever he sat on the couch, and Bucky buried his fingers in the scruff of its neck. He focused on the black fur sliding over the metal of his fingers as he carefully drew them down the cat’s back. He focused on his breathing, deep and even, on the way the cat in his lap was completely relaxed, trusting him. JARVIS had to remind him that he had a therapy appointment.

He sighed, not wanting to go. He didn’t want to break the fragile skin he’d built around himself. He knew he had to, though. He pulled the cat up out of his lap. “Hey, _kotyenok_ , do you want to come to therapy with me today?”

The cat blinked at him and then clambered up to balance precariously on his shoulder. Bucky winced as it put weight on the join between the prosthetic and his flesh.

“No, come on, you can’t be up there.”

He reached up to pull the cat down, but it just climbed up onto his opposite shoulder. Bucky sighed. When he turned to try to look at it, he nearly knocked the cat off of its new perch and it head-butted him in retaliation. It wasn’t hurting him standing on his right, so he figured it might as well stay. The cat wobbled as he stood but quickly found its balance and apparently settled in with interest for the ride.

“You know, no one’s going to believe me anymore when I say you’re not really my cat.”

It sat quietly through Bucky’s therapy appointment, letting him stroke it and play with its fur. His therapist, Dr. Nabavi, said it was a remarkably well-behaved cat and that it seemed to be doing Bucky some good. At the end of the appointment it climbed back up on his shoulder. It didn’t seem much inclined to get down, so Bucky carried the cat around with him for most of the rest of that day.

It quickly became a routine. When Bucky had a flashback the cat would be there, purring loudly and squirming into Bucky’s space or weaving in between his legs until he was present enough to hold it. It occupied his lap when he sat for any length of time, and rode on his right shoulder as much as was practical. It never again tried to get up on his left. Bucky took the cat to therapy when he needed to, and it sat politely in his lap despite the unfamiliar surroundings. It still left the Tower, but Bucky was somehow given the impression that it only did so when it knew he was busy and unable to give it attention. He came to expect to find it sleeping in the sun whenever he returned to his apartment. If it wasn’t, it would soon appear, smelling like grass or the wind, and rubbing its head against Bucky’s fingers in affectionate apology. He still hadn’t gotten it a collar or taken it to the vet or even given it a proper name beyond _kotyenok_ , but everyone living in the Tower knew the cat was Bucky’s.

 

Loki settled easily into a routine in the Tower. He sat with Bucky through nightmares and flashbacks and what he learned were efforts to prevent dissociation. He let Bucky take him to therapy appointments and listened in enough to figure out what sort of trauma he’d been through and how he was supposed to be coping. He also put together that Bucky was hiding exactly how badly he was doing from the Avengers, and that just having Loki as witness and source of comfort for nearly all of his episodes was immensely helpful. It wasn’t entirely altruistic, but then no one expected cats to be. Dr. Nabavi called Bucky ‘James,’ and Loki thought that was a much better name.

Slowly, his lethargy lifted, and he found himself caring that his agency was limited in his current form. He refused to be stuck at floor-level all of the time, claiming James’ shoulder as a perch. He got a free ride, and was conveniently close at hand if James needed to hold him. He also refused to eat only from a can, and indulged himself in stealing food among other occasional minor mischief. He only needed to take refuge on James’ lap to escape punishment, and most of the time he got rueful laughter out of his victims. He continued to take trips outside when James was elsewhere, but he didn’t bother casting a spell to alert him when the man returned. He didn’t have anything better to do to keep his mind occupied than memorize James’ schedule and learn to read his moods so that he could estimate on his own when he would need to teleport back. He began to find real joy in his flights, but he never thought of flying away. James was his people now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kotyenok = kitten  
> privyet = hi  
> spasibo = thank you


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's bird form is a [black kite](https://tokyobling.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/black_kite_1.jpg), just so we're all clear he's not a plastic square on a string.

Bucky was reading on the couch when there was a strange shifting sensation against his fingers and the weight in his lap suddenly changed. Glancing down, he jumped in surprise. Where his cat had been curled up there was now a man stretched out the length of the couch. He was asleep, his head in Bucky’s lap and Bucky’s fingers still resting in his dark hair. An urgent chime sounded from his left, and when Bucky picked up his tablet from the side table, a message from JARVIS displayed itself on the screen.

_Sgt. Barnes, are you aware of the identity of this man?_

He frowned, responding quietly. “Should I be?”

The initial message disappeared and more words quickly appeared following a blinking cursor. _Scans indicate he is Loki, the Asgardian sorcerer who led the invasion force of Chitauri here two years ago._

Several windows of information popped up, one of them a muted video of the man threatening Tony in the penthouse before throwing him out of a window. Bucky glanced down from the screen to the face of the man sleeping in his lap, realizing that he’d absently started stroking his hair. On his tablet, the Asgardian carried a scepter and wore elaborate leather armor, but here on Bucky’s couch he had on only simple leather pants and a plain green tunic, his hair long and loose. He went back to the tablet to read some of the information JARVIS had given him, but he didn’t get very far before—

 

—Loki jolted upright, panic spiking in his chest. He didn’t know why he’d shifted back. He’d been a fool to let himself relax, to start thinking of the Tower as safe. He never should have returned in the first place. Now the Avengers would know he was alive, and they would tell Thor, and then he’d be on the run from Asgard. He’d only had a few months of freedom—he couldn’t go back—he never should have endangered it like this—

 

“Wait,” Bucky blurted, his hand half outstretched. Loki looked like he was ready to bolt. “Stay,” he added. “Please.”

 

Loki froze on the edge of the couch, tension thrumming through him. He was unguarded, vulnerable. To his horror, he couldn’t find any words on his tongue. He hadn’t spoken for so long, wasn’t even a particularly vocal cat outside of purring to comfort James. His masks were disused and scattered, and he couldn’t reach any of them to hide behind a sharp word and a sardonic smile. Hyperaware of his situation, Loki waited for whatever would come next.

 

“I, um.” Bucky had been a smooth talker once. He didn’t do a lot of interpersonal interaction these days outside of therapy and mostly-silent companionship, though. He had no clue how he was going to convince an alien sorcerer to continue being his pet cat because Bucky had become dependent on his support. Taking a deep breath, he plunged on. “I want…you to stay. JARVIS told me who you are, but. I don’t really care—an’ I won’t tell anyone. I just— It’s going to be the Fourth of July soon, and I’d rather not be alone. Please.”

Loki’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling and back down in an obvious question.

Bucky swallowed, unsure if he could pull off this next part. “JARVIS? Can you keep this secret?”

The AI’s voice came from the ceiling, carefully neutral. “So long as Mr. Odinson—”

 

Loki cringed internally.

 

“—does not appear to be doing anything that would endanger anyone in the Tower, or attempting to access anything that has been designated as private within my protocols, I am not required to inform Mr. Stark. I am not prohibited from evading even direct questions from anyone other than my creator.”

Bucky sighed in relief, and Loki stared at him warily for a few more moments before he shifted back down into being a cat. He crouched nervously on the cushion next to Bucky, tail jumping. Sighing again, Bucky reached over for him and put Loki in his lap, petting him to try to provide some reassurance. He found that it was easier to talk to Loki like this.

“Look, you’ve been to my therapy. I haven’t exactly been working for the good guys for the last seventy years. So I’m not gonna kick you out. I mean, you’ve been here for a coupla months already and you haven’t hurt any of us. You’ve stuck around to help me deal with my issues, and I’m sure that couldn’t’ve been much fun, but I really liked having you there. That sounds like a second chance to me, so… And I guess just…thanks, _kotyenok_. For doing this.”

Loki didn’t exactly relax, but his tail settled down some. Bucky figured that was about as good as he could expect.

Loki was skittish for the next couple of weeks, slinking around the apartment as if he was afraid that Bucky would change his mind at any moment. He sat next to Bucky rather than on his lap until Bucky put him there. He no longer waited outside of the bathroom in the mornings to obnoxiously try to herd him into the kitchen to feed them both, and he wasn’t in any of his usual immediately visible spots whenever Bucky returned to the apartment. A few times Bucky had to go looking for him, and ended up finding Loki cooling off on the kitchen tile, but doing so hidden underneath a chair. The cat had guiltily come crawling out each time. He was still there for the nightmares and the few small panic attacks Bucky did have though, and Bucky felt less silly talking about it to him afterwards. Conversely, he felt a little more weird about having Loki sleep with him, but he was determined not to make a big deal of it. Loki was his cat, and Bucky wanted him there.

They did have one awkward interaction when he realized he was feeding cat food to a person. Loki more or less rolled his eyes at him and pointedly ate it anyway. Otherwise, Bucky was surprisingly okay with meeting a shapeshifter. He figured it had to do with living with the Hulk.

Then the dregs of a hurricane swept in from the south, bringing pouring rain, thunder and lightning. Bucky came back from the latest maintenance session on his arm and was looking around for Loki in the rain-mottled dimness of his living room when another flash lit the sky. A dark shape hurtled out from under the couch and threw itself at Bucky’s chest. He caught it reflexively before he fully processed what it was. Loki was trembling, clawing at Bucky’s chest in his attempts to get as close as possible. Bucky shifted his grip to hold him more securely, making soothing noises. When the accompanying thunder rolled through the room, Loki flinched, his ears flattening even further back.

Bucky took the frightened cat into his walk-in closet since it was the only room on his floor without windows, closing the door. He lowered himself to sit on the thick rug with his back against the wall, knees pulled up a little. Loki pressed himself full length against Bucky’s chest, shoving his face into Bucky’s neck, and Bucky held onto him tightly, steadily stroking his shoulders and back. He started talking, low and even, trying to be as soothing as possible. He told Loki about his day, and how JARVIS had said that the musculature in his shoulders had become less uneven and Tony had joked that it was from carrying Loki around all the time. He talked about his morning workout in the gym, about anything that came to mind. They sat in the closet for hours until the storm abated and Loki calmed down.

As soon as Bucky loosened his grip, Loki slid to the floor and sat facing away from him, the end of his tail twitching as he groomed his shoulder in quick motions. Bucky sighed and pulled him back in.

“Don’t do that. If I’m not allowed to be embarrassed about my triggers, neither are you.”

Loki hesitated for a moment, and then he curled up in Bucky’s arms. When Bucky shifted his hold to be able to stroke him, he quietly started purring. Bucky was surprised to notice that it sounded different from the insistently projected comfort purr when he was helping Bucky through an episode. This one was a low happy rumble and Bucky dropped his head, smiling helplessly. He wanted Loki to purr like that more often.

 

Loki barely paid attention when James carried him out of the closet, secure in his arms. He did take notice when James stopped in front of the couch instead of sitting down on it, though.

James shifted a bit and finally said, “Listen, Loki. You let me unload a whole bunch of stuff onto you when I need to, an’ I figure— I mean, I got the capacity for it right now, so I figure the least I can do is let you talk to me. If you want. Just…think about it, okay?”

With that he let Loki down onto the couch and walked around it to disappear into the kitchen. Loki put his front paws up on the arm to peer back at him, watching as James pulled cocoa mix from a cupboard. Then he sat back and gathered himself together. Taking a deep breath, he shifted back into his Aesir form. He stared at his hands for several long moments, feeling strange to be back in his own skin. Or what passed for his own skin, since Odin had stolen his first form. He was still wearing the clothes he’d had in prison, and with a grimace he changed them, opting for a shirt with longer sleeves that he could pull into his palms to pick at the hems and pants that were more about comfort than image. Even in the dungeons of Asgard he’d had his masks and he didn’t want them anymore.

James returned and handed him a mug, which he accepted. The cocoa was sweet and rich, and for a while they simply drank it in silence. Then his mug was empty and he leaned forward to place it on the coffee table. He cast a quick spell to prevent unwanted ears from catching wind and finding him, still not entirely sure that he would speak.

When he finally began, it was as if he’d flipped a catch somewhere in his heart, springing open a vise and releasing the shards of his hurts it had compressed there so that old wounds never healed, spilling the whole sorry tale. How Thor’s coronation had spiraled out of his control, leaving Loki stranded on the throne and reeling from the exposure of the great lie of his life. His fury-blind patricide and attempt to destroy Jotunheim. How he’d chosen to fall rather than return to Asgard, and then his mad ploy to get himself back to the Nine Realms while stealing the single Infinity Stone left in the Dark Lord’s possession and keeping another from his grasp. His farce of a trial and subsequent imprisonment in Asgard. Thor’s treason and the threats from him and his friends. How finally Loki had faked his death and run. He hadn’t been listened to in a long time. He didn’t deflect, or embellish, or pretend he felt anything other than what he did. He told everything, and he told the truth.

His greatest lie had always been his personality, layers of masks between himself and the world. Lies built on lies, necessity on arrogant assumption. He’d taken what other people had seen in him and turned it back on them to his advantage until even he had lost sight of his inmost self, and so when he was told that he was a monster, he gave truth to that lie as well. He’d believed once that to show anyone what lay behind his masks would be akin to flaying himself. Now it felt like clearing the debris.

“I have no one else left,” he finished at long last. “Any blood kin I have were likely destroyed by my own hand. I have no desire to claim any sort of relation to Odin, my adoptive brother has declared me irredeemable and furthermore believes me to be dead, and my mother—” Loki choked as the grief came crashing back down on him. “My mother is dead,” he gasped out, “and I don’t know how. They didn’t— They only—they only told me—”

James put his arms around him and Loki allowed himself to sob into his chest, clinging tightly. Frigga’s death was his fault, he knew that. He hadn’t even been allowed to view her funeral from his cell, couldn’t mourn her as a son should. Yet another thing Odin had ripped from him.

James stroked his back and his hair, whispering to him. When Loki understood the words, understood that James was apologizing to him, apologizing for everything he’d gone through, all the wrongs he’d suffered, he found himself shaking his head, his hands bunching the fabric of James’ shirt. He didn’t deserve that compassion from him.

“All I’ve ever had was built on a lie.” His voice was barely above a broken whisper. “Even now… It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not,” James told him fiercely. “You’re lost, and it’s not. And you don’t— You don’t have to lie to me. Even if you’re never my cat again, Loki, even if you don’t stay for all my shit. I’ll deal with it, okay?”

Loki shook his head again. “I like being your cat,” he protested weakly. “I don’t have to think about anything when I’m your cat.”

“Then stay. Stay and do what you want. Be what you want.”

Loki sniffled and adjusted his head against James’ chest so his face wasn’t pressed against the damp spot he’d left. He wiped at his eyes and then just held on. “Pet me?”

“Of course, _kotyenok_ ,” James murmured, his palm resuming its comforting path over Loki’s hair and down his back.

 

Loki started transforming back after that. Not often, but sometimes Bucky would catch him drinking tea in the kitchen as he was on his way out in the mornings, or he’d be poking through the bookshelves or using the tablet when Bucky got back. Sometimes he’d transform immediately and jump into Bucky’s lap demanding head scratches. Other times he wouldn’t and then Bucky would hold him and stroke his hair and let him cry or talk or whatever he needed. They spent Independence Day celebrating Steve’s birthday and then watching the fireworks over the East River through the window with a spell to silence the noise and Loki purring in Bucky’s arms. He found chocolate pudding snuck into his groceries and the flavor of his PopTarts changed from strawberry to raspberry. Sometimes his shower ran. As Bucky finally started to get a handle on his symptoms there were fewer stretches of time in which all he had the energy for was petting Loki, and they spent it reading or watching TV instead. Increasingly they ended up with Bucky stretched out on the couch and Loki sprawled over his chest. Once Bucky woke in the middle of the night to a much heavier weight behind him than usual and an arm draped over his side.

The next time they were up on the common floor with the rest of the team, Clint dangling a feather on a string and Loki humoring him by batting at it a couple of times, and Natasha said, “I think he’s more of a lap-cat than a birder, Clint,” Bucky spoke up.

“He has a name now.”

“You’re only saying that because you actually got him to sit in your lap once,” Clint retorted. “Wait, he has a name now?”

“I thought _kotyenok_ was his name, Buck,” Steve spoke up.

“Steve, that just means ‘kitty’ in Russian. His name’s Loki.”

Clint stopped wiggling the feather. “Dude. Why did you name your cat after the megalomaniacal alien sorcerer who tried to conquer the planet?”

Loki took the opportunity to jump up and swat at Clint’s hand holding the string. The archer yelped, but was unharmed since Loki had kept his claws in. The cat sauntered away to drape himself across Bucky’s shoulders and the back of the couch.

“I wasn’t here for that. He’s named after the Norse god of mischief.”

“You gotta admit it’s kind of funny,” Tony said. “Like it could be one of those ‘Where Are They Now?’ things. You know,” he put on a fake announcer voice, “‘Today we’re catching up with the once-fearsome Asgardian sorcerer who now spends his days napping in the sun and chasing feathers. Previously unknown weaknesses include laser pointers and being scratched on the chin.’” He snorted into his coffee. “If only we’d known.”

“Well, I did say his brain was like a bag of cats,” Bruce put in.

“See, Bruce gets it.” Tony held out his fist and Bruce bumped it bemusedly.

“I think it’s a fine name,” Sam said.

Loki’s tail thumped against Bucky’s arm.

Later, when they were alone, Bucky couldn’t help but start laughing. Loki sat up in his lap and stared unamused at him until he explained through his chuckles, “Sorry, it’s just, if they ever find out, then we’ll have let cat out of the bag.”

Loki set one paw on his chest and very deliberately whacked Bucky on the nose.

 

He was returning to the Tower one bright afternoon not long after, looking forward to getting out of the stifling heat and humidity, when his teleportation was interrupted by what felt like the metaphysical equivalent of a brick wall. Loki found himself shoved into existence several meters outside Avengers Tower and about eighty floors above the ground. Staggered and nauseated, he didn’t have time to figure out what had gone wrong before he could attempt to teleport again, nor did he have the presence of mind to shift back into his kite form before he hit the ground. His brain was just functional enough to be certain that Stark was somehow responsible for this. He landed on the roof of Grand Central Station and had a moment to be thankful that as a cat he still retained his normal resilience before he vomited. Shaking himself a little, he picked his way closer to the Tower to see if he could discern anything unusual.

Sure enough, when he sent out a tendril of magic he found it swiftly repelled by an energy barrier around the Tower. Probing further, he discovered that it disrupted any attempts to pass magic through it but did nothing to affect his physical body, aside from whatever effects he suffered from the magical backlash. Being an evidently technological construct, he could find nothing further about its intent. Still slightly nauseated, he teleported himself down to the sidewalk and slipped in through the front door.

 

Bucky watched bemusedly as Tony tried to get Loki to acknowledge him, begging the cat sitting on the arm of Bucky’s chair for even a scrap of attention. The inventor had surfaced from an engineering binge and inhaled about two cups of coffee before making a beeline to pet Loki. He’d held his fingers out but the cat had turned his nose up at them. Now he was determined to get back into Loki’s good graces, despite being ignored in the way that only cats were capable of.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Tony pleaded, shuffling around to where Loki had shifted to face away from him. He reached out to scratch Loki under the chin anyway.

Loki was not placated, staring coldly until Tony stopped.

“Really? You always let Bruce pet you at least once and you don’t even like him. I’m hurt, Loki, kitty-cat, Lokitty? Come on, you’re killing me.”

He reached out again and Loki ducked under his hand, turning to get down into Bucky’s lap where he regarded Tony with a regal disdain.

“Robocop, what’s with your cat today?”

“Maybe he thinks you’ve got better things to do than waste time trying to pet him. Like sleep, maybe.”

“Psh, naw, that’s what the coffee’s for.”

Still, Tony wandered away when he spotted Sam heading for the communal kitchen, whining, “Sam, Bucky’s cat doesn’t like me anymore.”

“Uh-huh. When was the last time you ate a solid food?”

Picking up Loki, Bucky went back down to his own floor. Setting him down on a couch cushion, he asked, “Why _are_ you annoyed at Tony today?”

Loki transformed back, looking highly put out. His arms were crossed, and Bucky could practically see his ears still twitching on top of his head. “He has created some sort of barrier around the Tower that I _ran into_ while teleporting. It was exceedingly unpleasant. I had to wear a collar just to make it through the lobby.”

Bucky tried not to laugh, he really did.

Loki huffed, but the corner of his mouth was pulling up too. “It is not amusing. His technological approximation of magical effects is primitive and frankly rude, and furthermore has several design flaws, not to mention the nausea it produces upon contact.”

“Oh, _kotyenok_ ,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m sorry. You’re okay, though?”

“Indeed.” Loki looked like he was trying to suppress a full smile now.

“I’ve always wondered, though, what do you do when you leave?”

“Would you like to see?”

Bucky nodded. “If you don’t mind?”

“Go up to the roof, then.” Loki shifted back into a cat, hopping up on Bucky’s shoulder.

He did as Loki directed, the heat heavy in the air as soon as he stepped out of the access door. He wandered towards the railing out of habit. Suddenly, Loki leapt up off his shoulder and there was a flurry of wings around his head. A black and brown bird went spiraling up into the air. Bucky gaped at Loki circling lazily high above him, his head tipped back and one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Loki was magnificent, pinions spread like fingers and gently forked tail tilting to guide him, seeming to balance effortlessly on the air. He looped around the Tower a few times before beginning to descend. Bucky held up his left arm and Loki settled carefully on his wrist, his talons pricking against the metal.

“Aren’t you something?” Bucky marveled, running one knuckle down the feathers on Loki’s breast.

The bird regarded him with quick tilts of its head. Then it flapped backwards, and Loki appeared sitting on the railing. His shirt blew light and loose in the heat, the sleeves pulled between his palms and the railing where his hands rested on either side of him. His hair stirred in the slight breeze that wound past. Bucky found himself drawn closer, to the railing next to Loki, feeling odd without having some physical contact between them.

“I like being able to see the horizon,” Loki told him softly. “It is important.”

Bucky tipped his face up, the spire of the Chrysler Building falling out of his vision so all he could see was the intense blue of the sky. He breathed the August heat into his lungs. “Summer was always my favorite season. Kinda funny when you think about it. Nowadays, it’s easy to forget what it feels like to be warm.”

Loki hooked their little fingers together on the railing, and Bucky closed his eyes, smiling. This was important.


	3. Chapter 3

August brought more storms, although they didn’t scare Loki as badly as the first one had after James showed him how to access the weather forecast on the tablet. Still, they spent them curled up together, James holding him tightly, regardless of whether or not he was a cat. Loki was spending less time in that form when he was in the apartment, now. He wanted to actually talk to James. It was strange to do so without a layer of duplicity, of subtle manipulation to get the result that his audience wouldn’t have otherwise entertained. He loved it.

And then, on a day when the clouds were mere scattered wisps, the sky opened with a thunderous crack, and Loki knew without a doubt that his fear had come to pass. He cut himself off in the middle of his sentence, gaze dropping to his knees where he was curled comfortably in the corner of the couch, his toes tucked under James’ thigh. He pulled anxiously at his cuffs.

“Loki?”

He grimaced, and when he spoke his voice was horribly dull. “Thor has returned.”

“Oh. That’s not very good for you, is it?”

He shook his head. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Are you…” James sounded worried, and when Loki glanced up he was chewing on his bottom lip. “Are you going to leave the Tower?”

“It…would be the best way for me to remain hidden.” He twisted the fabric of his sleeve. “I do not want to,” he confessed to his fingers.

“Is there a way to hide from him?”

“Thor has never cared for much that he could not hit with his hammer. So long as he only sees me as a cat, he should not suspect. However, the Watcher of Worlds is sure to be looking now that he is here, and it is his attention that I do not want. I have been relying upon the belief of my death and my transformation to avoid notice, but that will no longer suffice.”

“Can you do anything?”

Loki considered. “There are ways to conceal myself from his view, but if he were watching, he would see the use of my magic to weave such a spell. I would have to go to a Realm he would not think to pay attention to in order to remain undetected. It would take me several days.”

“Okay.” Loki jerked his gaze up to find James looking at him steadily. “Go, and do what you need to. And I’ll see you when you get back.”

Loki lunged forward to hug him, only a little surprised at himself.

He went to Jotunheim, as the other least likely place where he would be looked for, finding himself a small cave where he would not be found by either beasts or Jotnar. Sealing himself in, he settled into the meditation required to weave the complex layers of spellwork he would need. His magic was vibrant and eager after so long, and it leaped easily to his touch. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have power singing through his veins, and he worked quickly, but with care. When at last he had finished, and slept off his exhaustion, he emerged into the biting glare unsure of how much time had passed.

Loki stood on the edge of the great crater that had been left by the Bifrost. It stretched for thousands of kilometers ahead of him, a broken, jumbled landscape of cliffs and fault lines. In the middle of it would have been the ruins of the once-great city of Jotunheim, no trace left now to mark where it had stood. Loki wondered if Laufey had had other children, if they had died. He belonged on that throne now as much as he had on the throne of Asgard once, and would be as welcome. He wanted it as much too. Perhaps it was time for this Realm to be released from Asgard’s yoke, to determine its own way. It would be one more thing that Odin couldn’t have. The Casket of Ancient Winters had been lost in the void when he fell. He would see if he couldn’t retrieve it, and restore it to its rightful owners.

The image of the crater was still in his mind when Loki returned to Midgard cloaked in layers of concealing spells yet perfectly visible to the naked eye as he soared through the spires of Manhattan. He found the energy barrier missing from around Avengers Tower, likely shorted out by the Bifrost, and slipped easily inside. He hoped Stark would find some other way to address the problem if he was so intent on his illusion of security. He padded through James’ apartment, tracing familiar paths with sight and smell. On the coffee table in front of the couch was a card with his name on it.

Hopping up on the table, Loki sniffed at the card and the folded green shirt it was sitting on top of. There were traces of James, but nothing else that was distinct. The card read simply, ‘For Loki.’ He couldn’t help reaching out to check his spells just one more time, and then he shifted, sitting cross-legged on the floor between couch and table. He picked up the shirt, shaking it out. It didn’t have the loose collar he preferred, which he understood was not so much a Midgardian fashion, but the sleeves were long and it was his color.

“Hey! You’re back.” Loki glanced up to find James grinning as he entered the room. His hair was pulled up into a bun, and Loki didn’t remember when he’d started wearing tank tops that left the scarring at his shoulder visible, but he looked good. “That’s, uh, that’s for you. Steve dragged me out to go shopping, and I thought, maybe you’d like it.” He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head.

Turning back to his present, Loki pulled off his own shirt to try it on. It was an off-the-rack item, but it fit him well enough, and when he pulled the sleeves down he found that they were designed to cover his palms, with holes for his thumbs. He smiled down at his hands, and then turned it up at James. “I do like it.”

“Oh, good.” James sat on the couch next to him, reaching out to pull a strand of Loki’s hair out from under the collar. He moved to sit on the couch as well, twisting his hair into a braid over one shoulder. He hadn’t bothered to cut it yet, although perhaps he should. He pulled up his legs to cross them, one knee resting comfortably against James’ hip.

“How long was I gone for?”

“About four days. Thor seemed pretty upset about your ‘death,’ and everyone else has been telling him stories about you as a cat to help cheer him up. He was disappointed he didn’t get to meet you.”

Loki made a face. “Thor misses the loyal little brother I played for him.”

“I told him his arrival scared you away, so you’ve got an excuse to avoid him now, if you still wanna come with me to team gatherings.”

Loki blinked. “Thank you.”

James smiled lopsidedly at him. “Thor’s rather…loud.”

“That he is,” Loki sighed.

“So I take it you being here and like this means everything worked out? You’re not gonna be found out?”

“Indeed.”

“Good. That’s— Good.”

Then he asked, “You went out?”

James rolled his eyes, exasperated and fond. “Uh-huh. Steve is still such a stubborn little punk, I swear.”

Smiling, Loki settled in to listen to what had happened in the last four days and how James’ shopping trip had gone.

 

Bucky couldn’t really say he’d liked going shopping with Steve. There were too many hiding places and too many exits in the big box stores, and anyway he could probably get the exact same clothing from the internet. But Steve liked being able to try things on and physically compare them, not to mention chat with the salespeople because he was overly friendly like that. At least they both agreed that they might never get over the sticker-shock of future prices. And he had found Loki’s present.

He’d had a mild panic attack in the store while Steve was off in the changing rooms, scanning the place for targets, his adrenaline ratcheting up as he expected enemy combatants to charge in at any moment. He’d dealt with it fairly quickly though, breathing the way he was supposed to and taking stock of the things that were there in the present. Dr. Nabavi had said he’d done well, and that if he wanted, he might start to think about returning to combat. With Thor back to add another heavy hitter to the team, the Avengers were going to be a lot busier as they started to take out the remaining major HYDRA bases. Bucky wanted in on that, beyond what intel he might be able to provide from memory.

Tony was done with his arm, so he started using that time to go down to the shooting range below the gym. Handguns were okay, but rifles were harder. It was better with Clint down there to complain about the irony of a deaf person having to wear earmuffs and razz him about his aim until they got into shooting contests. He started sparring again too, when people were available. He was reluctant to fight Steve at first, but eventually had to admit that he was really the only one who could match him. Thor was stronger than them both, but not that great when he couldn’t rely on his hammer, which he refused to do in a fight against his Midgardian friends. All Bucky really had to do was get low and hamstring him. Natasha was fun to fight, and a challenge to do so non-lethally. Loki showed him a trick with his daggers to surprise her, but once he could wear her down, she was done too.

It turned out that the Avengers were also looking for Loki’s scepter. Loki rolled his eyes when Bucky told him, complaining, “It is not _my_ scepter. It was given to me.” But he did point out, “If it truly has fallen into the hands of HYDRA, they will likely have used it. The Mind Stone can do much more than impose upon someone’s will.” Bucky quietly brought it up in the next meeting.

It was early October when he joined his first Avengers mission. HYDRA had a base built into the eastern side of the Cascade Mountains, and there was only one access road. Iron Man, Falcon, and Thor acted as the advance guard and cleared out the sentry towers before the rest of the team proceeded towards the main base. Bucky was dropped on top of the right-hand tower with a Stark-special M24 to act as sniper. Falcon was on perimeter, but while the base was sure to have escape hatches they weren’t aware of, the road was the only way down the mountain. He set up his nest, lying on the roof listening as the sounds of combat began to echo between the forest and the comm unit in his ear.

He took out several armored vehicles that came his way, sending them careening into the trees. No one got out of them. A tank stuttered into his view and he was about to snap down his comm that he hadn’t got an anti-tank rifle when the Hulk crashed down upon it, flinging it away and bounding after. The Avengers pressed forward, almost into the base itself. And then a motorcycle skidded onto the road in front of him, dirt and snow spraying from its tires as the rider revved for the gate.

Bucky didn’t go for the head shot, but he saw it anyway, the rider’s neck snapping back as blood and bone and worse stained the snow. The motorcycle went out from under him, tires spinning as it slid heavily on its side. The gunshot seemed to ring out forever. There was snow, and blood, and gunpowder, and Bucky could _smell_ it—the chemicals, the fire, the fear. His throat burned and he couldn’t breathe. The body on the ground became all of the bodies on the ground. He’d pulled the trigger, watched the effects, and then he’d done it again. And again. Because he had to, because they were HYDRA, because he wasn’t, he _wasn’t_ HYDRA, and then—

Sharp teeth closed gently around his fingers and his back hit something. He dropped down, unaware of having stood. Blood and snow and death played out in front of him, forcing him to watch, and watch again. He needed to go away, get away from it somehow, and there was fur against his hands. There was fur against his hands, and that hadn’t been there before, that hadn’t happened. He didn’t think that had happened. He latched on to it, clinging to different in the hopes of gleaning some comfort.

Bucky heaved in a deep breath, only now realizing that his breathing had become shallow and his heartbeat fast. The fur was against his face and arms, and there was something large and solid against his body. He couldn’t see, not really, and there were no chemicals to smell. He smelled musk, and pine, and thyme. He breathed it deeply, inhaled it into his lungs in time with the body in his arms, and then slower. Bucky lifted his head.

He was sitting a few feet back from his rifle against one of the radar antenna, his knees drawn up. In the space between and over them sat a huge black dog, leaning into his chest. Its head had been dislodged from on top of Bucky’s when he looked up, and now its nose whuffed at his hair. When he loosed his arms to run his fingers through the shaggy fur, it pulled back to look at him. The wolf’s eyes were bright green. Bucky took the comm unit out of his ear, closing it in his fist so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Loki?”

Loki’s tail wagged, thumping twice against the roof before he shifted into the cat.

Bucky cradled him close against his chest, letting out a laugh, or maybe it was a sob. “Hi, _kotyenok_. Thanks for helping out again.”

Loki rubbed his face against Bucky’s chin.

He pushed himself up, moving back towards his gun and sitting cross-legged next to it. He took two deep breaths and then put his comm back in. Instantly, there were calls for him, his teammates asking the Soldier to respond.

“I’m here, I’m fine. Sorry. What’s the status?”

He stretched out again, and Loki fit himself in the crook of his left shoulder, his ears flattening against the sound of the gun. And for the rest of the battle, he stayed.

When it was over, and the rest of the Avengers were heading back out with files and confiscated items, Bucky hugged Loki once again and then let him leap from his arms into the sky, changing fur for feathers. Loki flapped higher, wheeling once above the trees before blinking out of sight entirely.

 

He waited impatiently the hours it took for the Avengers to return, wanting nothing more than to curl up with James and make sure he was alright. Loki wondered if he should put a monitoring spell on him. It was considered rude to do so without another’s permission, although he’d never had qualms about such things before. But with James’ history, he might not want Loki to have access to even his general mental state, and he was sure to become suspicious if Loki continued to show up when James had a flashback in the field. He didn’t want James to be angry with him. But he also didn’t want James to have to suffer alone. Loki’s thoughts followed his feet around in circles. He was halfway through wearing a path in the carpet when it occurred to him that this was unusual behavior for him at all.

When the Avengers finally arrived back at the Tower, Loki shifted into his cat form and bounded for the elevator. Unfortunately, when he emerged on the common floor, it was Thor who spotted him first. Loki hissed and spit as Thor picked him up by the shoulders, holding him aloft with a ridiculous grin. Static electricity crackled through his fur, making it stand further on end. Thor, as ever, paid him no mind.

“My friends, might this be the feline I have heard such tales of?”

Loki willed him to just bring his face within reach of his claws.

“Uh, Thor, I don’t think he likes that.” James appeared beside him. “Maybe I should take him.”

Thor handed him over, and Loki took the opportunity to snag the back of his hand, drawing blood. He glared at Thor from the safety of James’ arms.

Thor glanced at the cuts in surprise, the only wound he had taken that day, and then he laughed, declaring, “He is a feisty creature. A fitting namesake for my brother.”

“Sure,” James agreed.

Divested of their gear, the Avengers sprawled out over the common lounge, the usual tired argument about what sort of food to order in starting up. James curled nearly sideways in an armchair, Loki half in his lap and half on his chest, his eyes slitting as James started petting him. Across from them, Stark was tucked underneath Sam’s arm, waving half-heartedly as he tried to argue his point about cheeseburgers. Thor and Steve somehow managed to both fit on one couch, and the Widow and Barton took up most of the other, her feet in his lap. Banner was still mostly secluded from the world, wrapped under a blanket in another armchair. Eventually the choice of food was given to James, as it was his first Avengers mission.

“Um… I dunno. I liked the pizza last time.”

There was some grumbling but general acquiescence, and Barton raised his fist limply towards them. “Woot. Snipers unite. Man, we could make the weirdest club.”

The conversation turned to other things then, but Loki ignored it. He checked his spells once and then deliberately did not look at Thor, happy-purring as James’ thumb started rubbing circles behind his ear. When the food came he stole pepperoni off of James’ pizza until James gave in and fed them to him. He let James have the ham, though. The pineapple it came with made it taste strange. He licked at the grease on James’ fingers, thoughts of what it might be like were he in his more usual form flitting across his mind.

“You’re going to spoil that cat, Barnes,” Natasha commented.

“Mm, he deserves it.”

Loki glanced up abruptly to find James smiling warmly at him. He started rubbing behind Loki’s ears again, and Loki closed his eyes, going contentedly boneless on James’ chest as he purred loudly.

In the end he put a tracking spell on the Avengers’ quinjet.

 

Bucky went on more missions, working his way closer to the heavy fighting by degrees. He learned what it was like to be on a battlefield by choice, to face his triggers by choice. He was no longer a soldier, and he was no longer a weapon. It was different now; he had skills that few other people did and he was consciously making the choice to use them in the best way he knew how. Walking onto a battlefield, he expected the horror. And as a brief pre-battle search became a ritual for him, he also came to expect to see Loki watching over him. On most missions now, he only had to glance up from his scope to find a familiar kite perched nearby or hovering above as a silent support. Loki was there when he needed the small weight of a cat wedged into his shoulder to keep him grounded, modifying his shooting just enough to be distinctive of his present. And when things were really bad, Loki’s wolf was solid and warm even through Bucky’s body armor.

He was learning to deal with his PTSD in situations where the threat really was there, and learning to separate battle from down time. He had fewer episodes now when he went out, and they were less intense. But still, returning to combat took its toll. They were hitting HYDRA hard and fast, and he didn’t have enough time to fully reorient himself before the next mission forced him to his feet.

They’d had two weeks since the latest battle, and Bucky still felt tired. He went through his daily routine as always, but the motions were rote muscle memory. He talked to as few people as possible, unable to muster the energy required for interaction. He felt dull inside, his emotions far away. He would sleep if he wasn’t so awake. He didn’t lose time, but some days he found himself doing nothing more than watch the hands on the clock move. Loki had spent most of the last two weeks as a cat, doing his best to help. He’d left Bucky’s shoulder to insinuate himself into his arms instead, and would bother Bucky into giving him head scratches whenever he’d been staring off into space for too long. Bucky was grateful for him.

He sighed as he dropped onto the couch, letting Loki down onto his lap. “JARVIS, what’s on my movie list that’s funny?”

“If I may, I would recommend this, Sergeant Barnes.” The title card for _Ghostbusters_ came up on his TV screen.

“Sure, play it.”

Bucky propped his elbow on the arm of the couch, leaning his head sideways on his hand as a woman re-shelved books in a haunted library, and then a man conducted a clearly biased ESP test. Bucky watched the movie with a detached interest, the cheesy jokes eliciting no more than a huff of recognition.

 

Loki followed along with the movie from where he was lying comfortably in James’ lap. However, when they came to Egon explaining that crossing the energy streams of the proton packs would have dire consequences, he stood.  Stretching, he stepped off of James’ lap, then carefully turned around to make sure he had James’ attention before he shifted back.

“I hope you realize that this is absolutely ridiculous.”

 

Bucky blinked at Loki suddenly sitting right next to him, fixing him with a dubious look as he passed judgement on the film. It was stupid, he realized, because Loki had been there the entire time, but Bucky had missed him. And after two weeks, _this_ was what he transformed back to say? Suddenly, more than anything in the movie, Bucky found the whole thing ridiculously funny. Once he’d started laughing, he couldn’t seem to stop.

 

Loki watched as James began to laugh, smiling in relief. He’d been worried. He knew why James needed to fight, but he truly was beautiful when he laughed. Loki wished he could keep him only this happy all of the time. He found himself leaning in, sliding his arms over James’ shoulders.

 

Loki’s arms came over his shoulders and then his mouth was on Bucky’s and his laughter cut off into a startled, half muffled noise. Loki was pulling away even before it had ended and Bucky had had a chance to get his brain in gear, and Bucky grabbed hastily for him, hauling him back in. He kissed Loki properly this time, getting his arms around Loki’s back, and Loki melted right into him, kissing him back languorously.

Even before Loki’s lips had fully left his, Bucky was asking, “Will you go out with me?”

Loki smiled, and said, “Yes.”

Bucky found himself smiling stupidly back, just staring at Loki’s face, framed by the dark strands of his hair. He’d cut it, recently, so that it just skimmed his shoulders. It suited him. He looked really good, actually, and Bucky wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before. Loki’s eyes were such a pretty shade of green, with tiny golden flecks in them. Then Bucky’s brain caught up to him again and he said, “You know, I’m pretty sure movies are still considered good first dates.”

They resettled themselves on the couch so that they were stretched out sideways, one of Loki’s arms wedged comfortably between the couch arm and the small of Bucky’s back, his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest. Bucky propped his chin on Loki’s head, one thumb idly stroking over the fabric of the shirt Bucky had gifted him, just below a shoulder blade. They rewound the movie to catch what they’d missed, and this time it was better, with both of them snorting at the dumb jokes and occasionally providing each other with color commentary.

When the credits rolled up the screen, Bucky sighed happily into Loki’s hair. “We shoulda done this ages ago. Cuddling’s so much nicer when neither of us is crying.”

 

“Mm,” Loki agreed, enjoying the rumble of James’ voice under his ear. He turned his face further into James’ chest. “I know what would make it better.”

“Yeah?”

Loki shifted up, sliding one hand into James’ hair to cup the base of his skull. James smiled, anticipating what was coming next, and Loki closed the distance between them to kiss him again. They spent a long time at it, the press of their lips warm and unhurried, James’ stubble scratching deliciously right, until both of them were dizzy. Loki drew back only far enough to see James’ eyes, a handsome slate grey at such short distance. If he moved away to let the light fall on them, they’d turn into the blue of the sky he flew in.

“Don’t go on the next mission.”

James looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Okay.” He smiled. “I’ll just have to take you on another date, then, won’t I?”


	4. Chapter 4

They went to the Met for their second date, Loki casting a slight glamour over them both so that nobody would be inclined to recognize them. New Yorkers being what they were, it was unlikely they’d have been bothered in any case, but Bucky was glad for the privacy anyhow. Neither did he argue when Loki informed him that for the spell to extend best to Bucky they should remain in physical contact. He just linked their fingers together with a smile and let Loki lead.

They wandered through various galleries, taking their time. Loki snickered at the statues of Greek deities, and Bucky had to admit that he’d absorbed enough of Steve’s nattering about art theory that he couldn’t really complain about not understanding any of the paintings, even if he’d never be enthusiastic about them. They both quickly grew bored of the endless Western European Christian art. Then it became a quest to find the most interesting and obscure artwork from around the world. They ate lunch in the museum and only left when it closed. Outside, they wandered arm in arm down Fifth Avenue, their breaths steaming in the streetlights as it started to snow.

“It’ll be Christmas soon,” Bucky observed. “Do you have a winter holiday?”

Loki turned his face up to watch the snow fall. “Asgard celebrates Yuletide. The whole city is lit through the night, and it is a time of much feasting and merriment.”

“Sounds about right. D’you want anything?”

“Mmm, new daggers maybe, to replace those confiscated from me. Do you?”

Bucky huffed, his breath pluming. “Dunno. We never had the money for anything fancy when I was a kid. I just want you.”

Loki tugged them to a stop and leaned in to kiss him, nose cold against his cheek, but smiling. “You have me.”

They had dinner at a Chinese restaurant, warming themselves on thick hot and sour soup and cups of tea. Then they went home and chased the last traces of cold from each other’s skin, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs.

By the time the Avengers returned and the next mission came around, Bucky felt much better.

 

Unfortunately, the next mission targeted  an illegal arms dealer supplying HYDRA, and word had already gone around that the Winter Soldier was with the Avengers. The team got bogged down fighting a swarm of heavily armed combat drones, and no one but Loki noticed James being separated out from the group until it was too late. The Soldier ran lost through corridors of shipping containers filled with contraband, trying to gain some breathing room to turn on the drones on his tail. And then, just as he reached a dead end, an explosion on his heels drove him hard into the door of a container, the metal clanging with the impact of his head. James crumpled to the ground.

Loki dove. He shifted in midair, coming down hard on the leading drone, his jaws crushing rotors and metal plating. Landing, he shook his head violently, further crumpling the machine, then tossing it aside with a sneeze when his teeth pierced the fuel cell. He growled at the swarm hovering before him as they assessed his threat designation, fangs bared and hackles bristling. Before their rudimentary AI could decide how to proceed, Loki sprang forward again, jumping up the side of a container to bring down another drone. This time when he landed he left an illusion in his wake, bullets and lasers passing through it as half a dozen targeting systems locked on.

Loki killed drone after drone, pulling out all his tricks. He cast illusions, made himself invisible, changed his shape, and teleported, slipping their targeting and taking them down from above, where they were vulnerable. He fought tooth and claw, snarling his defiance. By the time there were none left to threaten James, Loki’s sides were heaving and his mouth and paws bled from multiple lacerations. A bullet had grazed his shoulder. He stood guard over James, waiting for the next wave to come.

Instead what came was Falcon, and Loki held off until he was sure Wilson had spotted them before shifting. Concealing himself from sight, he hid against James, watching as Falcon came to a landing, scanning the area before he knelt at James’ side.

“Hey, Barnes, you with me?”

James took a long moment to respond. “…Sam?”

“Yeah. Looks like you went down pretty hard. Can you tell me what hurts?”

James blinked a few times, frowning, then licked his lips. “Head. Arm. The…the regular one.”

“Okay. Can you follow my finger?” Wilson held up his index finger, waving it slowly before James’ eyes. Then he felt gently at James’ right arm. “Alright, well it looks like you might be concussed, and your arm has a fracture. Hold on, and I’ll be back with a med kit.” He took off, relaying the information into his comm.

When he returned, Wilson efficiently strapped a splint onto James’ forearm. He confirmed the concussion, and dressed the wound on James’ head. Then he wrestled him into a carry, grumbling, “Jesus, you supersoldiers are heavy.” Loki dug his claws into the leather and Kevlar of James’ uniform, clinging on as they took off.

On the quinjet, Sam laid James down flat on a bench. Loki moved silently out of the way for JARVIS’ medical scans as Sam found a heavy orange shock blanket to tuck around him.

“Battle’s almost done, looks like. I can stay to monitor you or JARVIS can do it.”

“’M fine. You can go.”

As soon as Falcon had left, Loki jumped up on the bench, sitting at the uninjured side of James’ head. He was still invisible, but James turned towards him anyway, his eyes closed and face creased with pain.

“Loki _kotyenok_?” he whispered, his voice heavy and slurred.

Loki rubbed his jaw gently over James’ forehead above one eyebrow, then turned his face back in to nuzzle the spot. James sighed, and Loki laid down to take his weight off of his front paws, letting James lean his head on his back as he settled in to let his healing take care of his own injuries.

 

Bucky’s head was throbbing, and the bench underneath him was spinning. His arm hurt, and when the team finally clambered onboard, the noise and the bright lights of the ‘jet powering up felt like they were stabbing into his brain. Loki was there though, Loki had defended him. Bucky had watched through swimming vision as a wolf he thought seemed larger than usual had torn through the swarm of HYDRA drones. He wasn’t sure if the part where the wolf kept disappearing and sometimes there were two of them was real or not, but it was Loki, so it probably was. He didn’t want to think about it too hard though, because his head hurt, and he was tired.

Sam got the team to quiet down and the lights around him to dim after a while, which was nice, but he wouldn’t let Bucky sleep. He kept waking him up. Sam explained it was necessary to monitor the concussion, but it still made him irritable. The first time, he opened his eyes expecting to see the black fur he could feel pressed against his face and instead found himself looking at the bulkhead of the ‘jet. He frowned, and made the mistake of asking, “Loki?” out loud.

“Your cat’s not here,” Sam reminded him. Fortunately he seemed to take it as confusion from the concussion.

When Sam had gone, Bucky glanced over to make sure no one was looking and then shifted onto his left side to further shield their view. Loki flicked into sight, blinked at him, and disappeared again. A raspy tongue licked his nose. Bucky smiled and leaned his forehead back against Loki’s side.

At the Tower he still wasn’t allowed to sleep. Sam said he had to be monitored for at least twenty-four hours, but at least he agreed to let JARVIS do it. In reality what this meant was that Loki took over as soon as they were back in their apartment, actually voluntarily interacting with JARVIS to do so. Even after he was off concussion watch, though, his sleep was restless, broken up and never feeling deep enough. He dreamed of being chased, running from HYDRA only for them to catch Loki instead, and Bucky would wake in a terror. When he was lucky, he would need to make sure that Loki was still in bed with him whole and unharmed, and Loki would let him cling without complaint. On multiple occasions though, he wasn’t so fortunate, and he nearly hit Loki, striking out on instinct while still half-asleep.

The second time Loki deflected a fist and folded him into an embrace, gently pinning his arms and murmuring “James” in his ear until he was awake, Bucky couldn’t hold back the tears. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. He wanted to say, “You’re not safe with me,” but instead he found himself curling his hands around Loki’s bare hips.

“I am never in danger from you,” Loki whispered, and Bucky cried harder because it wasn’t true. Even if Loki only meant he wasn’t in danger of Bucky hurting him, just by staying he was in danger from HYDRA, and the Avengers, and Thor finding out who he was and taking him back to Asgard.

He wanted so desperately to say, “Don’t leave me,” but the words stuck in his throat behind all the others he couldn’t say. Eventually, Bucky cried himself into exhaustion.

In the morning, he forced himself to bring it up again. Loki looked straight at him and said, “Yes.” Then he reached out and took Bucky’s hand. “But I take those risks knowledgably and willingly to be here.”

“Oh.”

They lounged around on the common floor for a few days, Bucky idly chatting with anyone who happened to be free, but everyone else was soon consumed with tracking down whoever had ordered the reclamation of the Winter Soldier. Ordinarily, Bucky wouldn’t have minded, but he was supposed to limit his mental exertion while he was recovering, which apparently included reading, and both computer screens and anything more than the lightest of workouts painfully exacerbated his symptoms. All of which severely diminished his options for how to pass the time. The boredom and forced physical idleness threatened to drive him crazy. Bucky suddenly realized what it must have felt like for Steve all those years ago. And while he wasn’t going to be getting into any fistfights he couldn’t win, he did sometimes feel like stabbing something.

Loki was the one who finally got him to rest as he was supposed to, persuading him into lying down on the couch with his head in Loki’s lap and his broken arm propped on his knees. Then Loki would card his long fingers through Bucky’s hair and tell stories. Some days he would simply read aloud, and Bucky would fall asleep to the soothing rhythm of his voice. Other days Loki would spin his own tales, long, fantastic things only parts of which were true, and Bucky would keep himself awake to hear every word. He loved listening to Loki’s stories, and especially to Loki telling them. After one day in which a well-meaning trickster had his lips sewn shut as punishment for his clever words, Bucky made sure to say so.

Loki had a face for when Bucky did things like this, praised things he used to be mistrusted for. Surprised, and quietly pleased, and a little vulnerable. As it turned out, making out with Loki was also allowed, and a very enjoyable use of his time.

 

In all, James’ injuries kept him off duty for three weeks, and with not much else for him to do apart from occasional therapy appointments, Loki ended up keeping him near constant company. The time that James was usually away that Loki had begun using to search for the Casket of Ancient Winters was now taken up by telling tales to keep James entertained while he rested. Where once he would have resented the interruption of his work, Loki found he didn’t mind. Being with James made him happy. It scared him sometimes, just how much.

He’d never had something like this before, and he knew with growing certainty that he wanted desperately to keep it. And James would notice, in the hours they spent lying in each other’s arms on the couch with their feet tangled together, when too many teeth slipped in, and he would pull back to ask what Loki needed. Sometimes it was to pull James’ shirt off and suck bruises into his shoulder and collarbones. They would fade in a few hours, but he was always careful to leave them where they wouldn’t be noticeable, as much as he might want to the contrary. Sometimes it was just to stop, and be held, and let James stroke his hair. Sometimes he hardly knew what he needed, but that was alright because James was there.

By the time the Avengers had completed their latest mission in all of its drawn-out complexity, Loki had nearly forgotten that he was in hiding. It was strange to be a cat again when they joined the post-mission meal, which this time was large quantities of Thai food. He found himself repeatedly remembering that he couldn’t speak in this form, and having to remind himself of appropriate feline behavior. At least James seemed to be having the same problem, judging from the amount of times he appeared about to say something to Loki only to change his mind.

“Terminator, have you been talking to your cat?” Stark asked.

“I ain’t had much else to do lately since I got exploded into a wall,” James replied.

“You mean getting exploded into a wall was what finally sent you over the edge?” Barton asked faux-dramatically, eyes wide and mouth half full.

“No, I think that’s just what all cat people do,” Sam said, but James sat up.

“Are you questioning my sanity, Clint?”

That prompted a minor food fight, which was ended when Loki batted a spring roll out of the air and ate the shrimp out of it.

Barton turned to Natasha, flinging a hand at him. “The hell do you mean he’s not a birder?”

She just rolled her eyes. Internally, Loki agreed.

It was nearing Christmas, so the Avengers put their activity on hold for the holiday. Stark bought a ridiculously large tree for the common floor, and everyone spent an afternoon decorating it. Loki entertained himself by climbing into the branches and refusing to move, watching haughtily from on high as they were forced to go around him and leave a spot bare of lights and tinsel. Of course he got down as soon as a picture was about to be taken. Rogers insisted on stringing popcorn and cranberries to hang on the tree, although he ended up having to make a second and third bowl of popcorn because the others kept eating it. Loki stole a spool of his string, chasing it across the floor until he could hide it when no one was looking. When Rogers finally noticed, Loki was across the room, casually lying on top of the Hulk ornament that was part of a handmade set of the whole team a fan had sent in, once again refusing to move.

Banner blinked down at him. “You know, Bucky, I don’t think I’ve known a cat that was as non-active as yours yet still made as much trouble.”

James laughed when he saw Loki squishing the Hulk-ornament’s head, but then Thor came over, reaching for him and declaring, “Not to worry, I shall soon solve the problem and free your tiny likeness.”

Loki fled into James’ arms.

On Christmas morning, Rogers dragged James out to a church service and then to volunteer with the homeless. James had complained bitterly about having to get up early on a holiday the night before, but ultimately went willingly. Still, Loki watched amused from the back of the couch as James wheedled extra coffee out of his best friend despite the fact that both he and Loki had been awake before Rogers had arrived so that Loki could transform. Loki used the time they were gone to prepare his own gift for James. The strength of his magic as he crafted the spell took him by surprise, another reminder of the depth of his feelings. He also took the time to surreptitiously rearrange some of the mistletoe Stark had positioned across the Tower.

James noticed immediately when he returned, stopping underneath the sprig that now hung in their entranceway. “Huh.”

“Clint, probably,” Rogers said, smacking a kiss to his cheek.

“Gross,” James complained, laughing. He danced out of the way of Rogers whacking his arm, and started pulling his scarf and coat off.

“I’m not the one that makes the rules.”

“Oh, yeah? Y’know this obviously means you hafta kiss Sharon today, too.” James waggled his eyebrows. “I know she’s invited to the party.”

Rogers blushed bright red, and stammered something about needing to go.

“No excuses!” James called after him as he fled into the elevator.

Loki waited until he was gone before he shifted, coming forward to place a hand in the center of James’ chest, pushing him back the two steps until he was once again underneath the mistletoe. James’ grin mirrored his own as he leaned in for a kiss.

“You were the one who moved that here,” he mumbled against Loki’s mouth.

“It’s possibe.”

After they’d spent longer than was strictly necessary beneath a plant on their ceiling, Loki showed James his present. James ran his thumb over the sigils sewn in black thread into the collar of his uniform jacket, then looked up at him.

“It is a protection spell. It will help keep you safe from injury or harm.”

“Oh. Thank you.” James kissed him again.

James’ present for him was a set of four knives, two small push daggers and two longer ones. All of them had his snake and wolf motifs worked into the hilt and crossguard, the patterns picked out with the help of JARVIS. They were beautiful, and, James assured him, of the highest quality. Loki loved them.

That evening the Avengers and assorted friends and partners gathered for dinner and then to drink bourbon-spiked eggnog while opening presents. Multiple people had thought it would be funny to get Loki catnip, so as a consequence he was happily flopped over James’ chest, purring loudly and getting fur all over the ugly seasonal sweater that Natasha had given variations of to everybody. Thor had a flask of Asgardian liquor, which meant that everyone was at least slightly inebriated by the time all of the presents had been opened, and the suggestion was made for dancing. Which led to a discussion of whether they all _could_ dance.

“Shit no, Steve still can’t dance,” James snorted, scratching behind Loki’s ears.

“That can’t be true,” Sam argued. “I’ve seen him in the field. He’s got twinkle toes.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t got any _rhythm_. Seriously, Stevie, did those showgirls teach you nothing?”

“Bucky...” Rogers complained, his ears going red. Next to him, Sharon Carter giggled into her drink.

“What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, and you already make my dancing look bad enough. You don’t gotta go pointing it out.”

“How else ‘m I supposed to poke fun at you, oh Star-Spangled American icon?”

“Alright so Capsicle can’t dance, but I’ve heard you were a smooth one, Buckaroo,” Stark put in, lounging against Sam and already assembling the pieces of the kit Sam had gifted to him sans its instructions.

James grinned. “Four time Brooklyn Swing Champ.”

“You gonna prove it to us?”

“Last I checked you need two people for swing.”

“I can swing,” Natasha put in, holding out her hand. “Let’s see your moves, Barnes.”

Barton started a chant of, “Dance, dance, dance,” that Darcy Lewis quickly joined in on, elbowing Jane next to her.

James rolled his eyes, displacing Loki to stand. “Fine, fine, I’ll dance.”

A space was cleared and JARVIS started playing “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.” Loki watched as James pulled Natasha up and spun her gracefully around the floor and into several lifts to hoots of encouragement from their audience. James was comfortable with her, and Loki couldn’t stop his tail twitching. It didn’t help that the catnip was wearing off. Both of them were grinning when James pulled Natasha up from the final dip. There were claps and whistles all around.

“Well, that was fun,” Natasha commented, falling back into her spot on the couch.

“We should do that again,” James agreed. “I haven’t danced in too long.”

Loki climbed into his lap, demanding attention and rubbing all along his front until James started scratching his jaw again.

Pepper smiled, watching. “I think you’ve made your cat jealous.”

James scooped him up and cuddled him, nuzzling Loki’s head. “Aw, he knows he’s the only cat for me.”

Stark burst out cackling when it turned out that the sole function of his completed machine was to turn itself back off once turned on.

Much later, after there had been more dancing, and some of the guests had fallen asleep in the common lounge, prompting the rest of them to seek their own beds, James stopped him in their living room. “Were you really jealous of me dancing with Tasha, _kotyenok_?”

Loki huffed and avoided his eyes.

James pulled him close with one arm around the small of his back. “It’s only some fun between friends.” Lacing the fingers of his other hand together with Loki’s between them, he nudged Loki’s free hand up to his shoulder so that they were leaning into each other. It was much more intimate than the position James had held Natasha in, no space left in between their bodies. James brought his head close to murmur low into Loki’s ear, their temples brushing, “But this is all for you.”

He started dancing slowly, swaying them to imaginary music. Loki could feel the warmth of him all along his front. His eyes closed, and he turned to catch James’ lips, the shuffle of their feet stilling as they kissed. Leaning their foreheads together, Loki could feel James’ eyelashes and the fan of his breath across his cheek, the slight curve of James’ lips that still barely brushed his own.

“I love you, _kotyenok_.”

Loki smiled. “I love you, too.”

 

Their third date was dinner. On a day between missions, they took an afternoon to cook together, something fancy that they wouldn’t otherwise make. As with most things, their experiences were vastly different, but somehow they balanced each other out and made it work. Bucky remembered various bowls of _soupe à l’oignon_ from across France during the war, but this one was by far his favorite.

Loki returned from setting the table just as Bucky finished pulling the soup out of the oven where the cheese had been browning, slipping his hands around Bucky’s waist to embrace him from behind. When Bucky turned his head, intending to say something, Loki captured his mouth instead in a kiss. Bucky returned it, leaning back into him. Tilting his head against Loki’s, he sighed.

“James?” Loki murmured, kissing his jaw.

“Dunno, it’s just…” He searched for words. Finally he sighed again and twisted in Loki’s arms, looping his own around Loki’s waist and tucking his face into his boyfriend’s neck. He couldn’t help but smile at that, and Loki rubbed his cheek over Bucky’s hair, a vaguely feline gesture both affectionate and soothing.

“Times have changed, I guess. We didn’t ever talk about this kinda thing when I was a kid. It was… Well, a fella could get sent to jail for liking other men. I always figured I’d have to deny that part of me and just go with girls ‘cause I was lucky enough to like them too. But now I’m here and it don’t really matter. I can kiss you right in public if I want, an’ the Supreme Court says anyone can get married, and I just…never thought I’d get to see anything like this.”

Bucky fell silent, just breathing for a while.

“Dr. Nabavi told me it’s not considered an illness anymore, being gay. Or whatever. But sometimes I can’t help still worrying I’ll come off wrong or something, and people’ll know that I’m sick. An’ then I do something so stupidly domestic like kiss you when we’re cooking dinner and I don’t know how I’m not shouting it all over the rooftops because I _can_.”

Loki’s arms tightened around him. “Do you want to reveal our relationship?”

Bucky huffed. “You’re still hiding, though.”

“Even I cannot hide forever. And I do rather want to claim you as my own.” Loki’s voice carried amusement, and Bucky hid a smile in his shoulder. Loki turned to press his lips to Bucky’s hair. “We can begin to discuss ways to reveal my presence safely, if you would like.”

“Mmm. Later, though. For now let’s just eat dinner.”

 

Loki woke on the morning of February 15th to thin winter sunlight and James’ skin sleep-warm against his own. They’d stopped bothering to count their dates by this time since living together blurred the line anyway, but last night would definitely have qualified, after James had quit teasing Rogers long enough to send him off to his dinner with Sharon Carter and they had declined to join Natasha’s action movie marathon. James shifted against him, his left arm settling cool at Loki’s lower back and his fingers starting to tease gently through his hair. Loki smiled.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” James’ voice was scratchy from the night and still mostly-asleep. His fingers moved to rubbing circles just behind Loki’s ear.

Perhaps it was a side effect of spending so long as a cat, but that felt heavenly. Loki let out a quietly contented moan and settled closer, relaxing completely. If he had not already been disinclined to move, this would have convinced him.

“You really are my _kotyenok_ ,” James murmured, amused.

“I like when you pet me.”

James ran the pads of his fingers down Loki’s spine, and he kicked the sheet further down his back for better access to do it again. If he could get the transformation just right…

“Are you purring?”

“Mmm yes.”

James huffed a laugh, and tucked his nose into Loki’s hair, continuing to pet him. Neither of them noted the passage of time, content to stay as they were. Things felt soft around the edges, as though part of a dream, but one that Loki wanted to be completely awake for. After a while, though, James’ hand stilled at his shoulder.

“Loki?”

He cracked one eye open, peering up at James’ frown. “Yes?”

“How long will you live for?”

Loki sighed and shifted onto his side, facing James across the pillow. “I do not know truly. Why do you ask?”

“They did a bunch of tests, when they found Steve and they were defrosting him, to see if they could find out how he survived. They think with the serum, if he doesn’t get himself killed first, he might live for a few hundred years. What I’ve got isn’t so good as his, an’ I didn’t let them do anything so I don’t know for sure, but the best guess is I’ll live about the same. Maybe less by a century or so.” James chewed his lip. “You mentioned once you’re over a thousand.”

“Yes.” He stroked his palm briefly up James’ back and down. “The average lifespan for an Asgardian is five thousand years, but that is dependent upon regular consumption of the golden apples from the Yggdrasil tree which connects the Nine Realms. When a person has become old and no longer wishes to prolong their life, they may cease eating the apples each year and die a natural death in a century or so. There are, however, no accounts of anyone giving them up when they were as young as I am, and my own physiology is…complicated. It may be that my lifespan will be similar to yours.”

James blinked at him. “…You’re giving them up?”

“Yes. I went without them after I fell, and it is doubtful whether I would have received any while in prison. They are very closely guarded.”

“Are you… Is this because of me?” James whispered.

“No. It is for myself. I am done with Asgard.” He couldn’t help smiling then, reaching up to brush James’ hair back. “But I will not deny that it has benefit for our relationship.”

James pulled him into a kiss, heedless of the state of their breath. “I just… I really want this.”

Loki kissed him again. “As do I.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Norse myth, Nal is another name for Laufey. Since I do what I want, she is here a different (more sensible) Jotun chieftain.

Between Avengers missions and the night Loki crawled shivering into bed as a cat after having successfully summoned the Casket of Ancient Winters from the void of space, desperately needing Bucky’s comfort and support through what turned into a whole bad week, he barely noticed the run-up to his birthday. So it was somewhat of a surprise to wake up to JARVIS’ date display reading March 10 and realize that he was 29 years old, more or less. 98 if he wanted to be technical.

“Does Asgard celebrate birthdays?” he asked Loki on their way to the kitchen for breakfast.

“No, single years are not important when one lives for millennia. What does one do on Midgard?”

“Well, usually there’s a party with cake and people give you presents.”

“Hm.” Loki slid into his arms, kissing him until he’d nearly forgotten the conversation. “I did not get you anything. Will this do?”

Bucky laughed lightly. “This’ll do just fine.”

“Good.” Loki went back to thoroughly kissing him, steering him backwards by the hips until they hit the couch.

“You just want an excuse to make out with me,” Bucky teased, falling onto the cushions, his head tilted back over the arm. Loki straddled his lap, looking down on him from above, his face alight as he took in Bucky’s grin, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“Do I need one?”

Bucky pushed a hand into Loki’s hair to bring their mouths back together. “Absolutely not.”

“Mm, then perhaps, I should take you back to bed with me,” Loki hummed against his lips, in between kisses. “Keep you there all day.” He moved down Bucky’s jaw with just the barest hints of tongue and teeth which Loki knew drove him crazy until he could suck gently at the hinge. Bucky sighed out a groan, pressing up into him. “I could spend hours teasing you, and another just opening you up until you cry,” Loki breathed wickedly into his ear. Bucky whined, breathless. “And then,” Loki promised, “I would make you scream.”

Bucky moaned. “D’you need an excuse?”

Loki sucked briefly on his earlobe. “Not in the slightest.”

He turned to capture Loki’s mouth again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and tugging gently with his teeth. He palmed Loki’s ass, encouraging him to grind their hips together.

And then there was a hasty chime from JARVIS, immediately followed by a strangled noise of surprise. Both of them froze. They glanced up to find Steve standing there blushing bright red, evidently having come in from the stairs. Bucky felt his stomach plummet, his arousal snuffing out. Then Steve recognized Loki, and his eyes went even wider.

“Loki, step away from him now,” Steve ordered, his voice impressively controlled given the situation.

Bucky looked back in time to see Loki’s expression shift subtly, as if he were retreating inside himself. Something else replaced it, and Bucky got what he meant when Loki described his deception as wearing masks. It was as if another person had taken over his boyfriend’s face. Bucky hated it.

“I do not think I will.”

Steve frowned, and his fingers twitched as if for the shield. The situation was already bad, but if he called for reinforcements, it’d get even worse. Bucky sighed, and prodded Loki gently in the side.

“Get off me, _kotyenok_.”

Loki glanced down at him, the mask cracking just a little, and Bucky could see that behind his composure, Loki was badly frightened. He tried to look as reassuring as possible as he nodded, despite his own fear. Loki shifted off the couch then to let him stand, but stubbornly kept an arm around Bucky’s waist, pressed close to his side. Bucky put his own arm around him, squeezing his hip.

“Let us explain, Steve.”

Loki moved his hand up to Bucky’s shoulder, and he caught on a second before Loki transformed, landing on his shoulder as a cat. Loki regarded Steve, who was once again looking shocked, before picking his way across to Bucky’s other side. He never sat on his left, but suddenly Bucky got it again, and he held out his wrist with his elbow tucked into his side. Loki jumped down, shifting into his kite. He shuffled his wings once, and then flared them enough to hop off of his perch and hit the ground as a wolf. Bucky’s fingers had barely grazed his ruff before Loki straightened into his more usual form, Bucky’s arm falling naturally back around his waist.

Steve stared. “You’ve been pretending to be Bucky’s cat? And…Clint said he kept seeing a weird bird, and Sam told me he thought he’d seen a wolf once. You’ve been in the field with us, too?”

“With James,” Loki corrected.

He turned to Bucky to demand, “Did you know about this?”

Bucky was currently worried that he was going to lose Loki to Asgard and never see him again, but he still wanted to roll his eyes and say, “Duh, he’s my boyfriend.” Instead what he did was sigh again and say, “It’s kind of a long story, Stevie. What’d you come down here for in the first place?”

Steve blinked. “I— Tom’s diner is still around. I was going to take you for your birthday as a surprise.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said quietly, “I shall make the trip to Jotunheim early.”

Bucky jerked his head around to look at him, about to protest. Loki had only just regained his footing after summoning the Casket. It would be better if he waited longer to return it, but the uncertain look on his face stopped Bucky short. He pressed his lips together. “Okay. Be safe.” He leaned in to kiss Loki one more time, reminding him as they parted, “I still want my birthday present.”

Loki managed a tight smile. “Of course.”

He turned away from Bucky, walking towards the windows. Between one step and the next he was outside, soaring away with the wind ruffling his feathers. Bucky watched until Loki was out of sight, already missing him like an empty space in his heart. Then he turned back to Steve.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll explain on the way.”

 

Loki made his way to the passage that would lead him from this Realm to Jotunheim on leaden wings. He flew through the twisted corridor before taking his Asgardian form to pick his way through the rubble that closed off the exit, emerging once more near the edge of the great crater. It had snowed recently, and Loki struggled his way through knee-deep drifts to a bit of flat ground, where he summoned the Casket of Ancient Winters from its pocket dimension. It glowed faintly blue before him, half-sunken into the snow and lighting it from within. Loki shivered, though it wasn’t the cold he minded, and with a mixture of fear and worry and dread already churning sour in his gut, he surely couldn’t feel much worse. He reached out and picked up the Casket.

He could feel the change as it happened, and he knew what he must look like. He swallowed down the self-loathing that came with the image. This was his first form, what should have been his true birthright had it not been stolen from him by centuries of lies and hatred and prejudice. He knew now that the monster he’d believed himself to be was a lie. He’d watched the Jotnar, while his spells were combing through the vastness of space, looking for the best way to return the Casket should he recover it. They were a people of survivors, shaped by the land they lived in, and no more the childhood monsters underneath his bed than any of the other people Asgard cast itself above.

If he was truthful, Odin had always treated him as though he were Jotun. Regardless of his adoption, regardless of the lies he was fed and the secrets that were kept from him, Odin had never seen beyond his own prejudice when looking at him. But Loki was no longer bound by him, or to Asgard, and he did not have to accept the caricature he’d been presented. He was himself; and he was Jotun.

And James had seen, and shivered, but touched him anyway with his metal hand, and told him he was gorgeous no matter what he looked like. Casting a spell to maintain his appearance without having to hold the Casket of Ancient Winters, Loki set off across the icy fields.

 

Bucky sighed long through his nose, staring through the windshield. “Loki was there for me when no one else was. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t in a good place to let people in at the time, and Loki wasn’t in a place to do more than be a cat.” He chuckled quietly. “We were both kindve a mess.”

 

Loki took himself to a region distant from the crater, where he knew there to be a fairly large band of Jotnar. Nominally, they had belonged to Laufey, but he’d learned privately, they had a greater interest in moving forwards than clinging to the remnants of a past glory. The concerns of living in a slowly dying Realm left little room for anything else. Still, they had taken in the last members of Laufey’s regime, the hunters that had survived the Bifrost, and seemed to integrate them well.

The sky was low and grey, the large snowflakes drifting down quickly picking up into flurries that obscured his vision. He was still several kilometers from his goal, traveling on foot. He could have teleported directly into the band’s shelter, but it was important that he be seen approaching. Loki trudged on through the worsening weather, acutely aware of the impression he would give: a small, mysterious stranger emerging from the storm to bestow a lost artifact with the power to restore Jotun civilization to its former heights. It was deliberately the sort of thing that would inspire tales told to future generations.

He was once again manipulating how others saw him to achieve his goals, and it made his skin feel dirty. That he was doing it to aid an entire Realm of others rather than for his own selfish motives was little consolation. How much better was he than Odin that he was coming to a Realm he did not belong to having decided what would be best for them? For all that he was Jotun by birth, the little he knew about their customs that he could be certain was not twisted by Aesir racism came from the hours he’d spent scrying to decide whom to entrust with the Casket. It was a shocking arrogance, but he saw little other choice if Jotunheim was to be able to keep the Casket away from Asgardian hands. The most he could do was have as little influence as possible in what happened after it left his possession.

That would be complicated, though, by the fact that he might not be able to return to Midgard. If James could not convince Captain Rogers to let him stay, he would need to find somewhere else to hide from Asgard. Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellir would recognize him, and he could not inhabit Svartalfheim, Muspelheim, or Niflheim. Leaving the Nine Realms would require a ship and provisions, and theft of such would be sure to get him noticed. Jotunheim was his best bet for safe refuge, although he did not relish the lies he would have to tell to remain here. They could not know his true name, nor why it was that he knew nothing of how to survive on Jotunheim and next to nothing of Jotnar culture. He needed to walk a fine line between playing mythic benefactor and leaving himself an opening to return as an ordinary, if woefully unknowledgeable, member of the band.

 

“No I know that, Steve. You really think I’d let someone get close to me who could control my mind? I know it’s just my word on his right now, but Loki told me some stuff about that invasion.”

 

Loki had become so used to hiding his presence from the gazes of Heimdall and Thanos, as well as from the Avengers, that he found himself uncomfortable when he suddenly became the focus of attention for the returning group of hunters that had finally spotted him. They escorted him to the band’s shelter, a large cavern system that extended into dug-out chambers in the snowpack, and at his request showed him to a private room while one of them went to fetch their leader. The room was small by Jotun standards, but Loki still felt dwarfed by the lofty ceiling and the moderate furnishings, pillows that could each serve him as a couch and great embroidered hides hanging on the walls. The floor was covered with pelts that stood out grey and white against the dark rock, and the walls were veined with a similarly-colored mineral that glowed with light.

Two women entered the room after a few moments. One of them was easily more than half again Loki’s height, while the other stood a head shorter than her companion. They took seats on the floor before him, putting them at more or less eye level. Loki remained standing.

“Greetings to you, stranger,” the shorter one began. “I am Nal, leader of this band.”

“Greetings as well,” said the other. “I am Farbauti. I speak for the remainder of Laufey’s band, that have now joined with Nal’s.”

“My greetings to you, Nal, and to you, Farbauti,” Loki replied, following their lead. He inclined his head to each in turn, realizing that he would have to introduce himself. The first name that came to mind was James’ endearment for him, and he went with it. “I am Kotye. I have traveled a great distance to bring you an item that was once lost and is now restored.”

Nal gestured for him to continue, and he summoned the Casket to his hands once again, placing it between them. Both of their eyes widened, and they leaned forwards but did not touch.

“Does Asgard know of this?” Farbauti asked sharply.

“No, it had fallen into the void of space, from whence I retrieved it. They believe it there still.”

Nal sat back, looking to Farbauti. “So this is truly the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

“Yes. I saw it often enough as consort to Laufey, and though I have not laid eyes on it since, I would not forget the appearance of the heart of this Realm.” Loki tried not to gape at her.

“This is quite the gift, then,” Nal murmured, her eyes narrowing. “With this we could restore the natural balance of the world that was disrupted by the Bifrost. The capital could be returned to its grandeur of millennia past.”

Farbauti snorted. “Those who thought Thor’s War would restore our glory have gone to the last winter. The rest of us know that Asgard will punish the least infraction with excessive force. With this we might hold our heads up once more, but to catch the eye of Asgard is to risk our own necks.”

“Very good.” Nal’s gaze drifted back to Loki. “And what of you, Kotye? Surely such a gift deserves something in return, and one with skills such as yours could be a benefit to us.”

“All I ask is that the Realm be healed, but that it also remember.”

Farbauti and Nal shared a look, and Farbauti gestured at the Casket. “You would freely give up such power? With this you could command the loyalty of the Jotnar, as Laufey once did.”

 “It is not my right to wield it.” Loki smiled. “In any case, I have left my heart in another Realm, and I must return to its keeper.”

 

“I love him. I’m _in_ love with him, Steve.”

 

“Will you not share meat and drink with us?” Nal asked.

Now that his mission on Jotunheim was seemingly successful, Loki’s worries about the situation on Midgard had come creeping back in and he was anxious to return. At the mention of food, however, he realized that he had not yet eaten today. He recognized it also as a symbolic gesture. If he ate with the band, he was no longer a stranger and thus was bound not to injure them without cause. Besides, he liked Nal, with her clever couched politics, and he wanted confirmation of who he suspected Farbauti to be. So despite the sickness in his stomach, he accepted.

Loki learned much about the Jotnar sitting at a meal with them, and as a stranger, they wanted to know much about him. He tried to lie as little as possible. He _had_ traveled extensively through the Nine Realms, and it was true that there were pathways for those who knew where to look. It helped somewhat that all those who knew of his direct involvement in Thor’s coronation and war were dead, although he did not have to like that fact.

Towards the end of the meal, Nal remarked, “You have a silver tongue to rival my own, Kotye. Our lives would certainly be lesser if this was to be our only meeting.”

“Then perhaps it shall not be.”

 

“Also, I would like it on record that you have terrible timing, Rogers. I was being promised a day of fantastic sex before you walked in.”

Steve choked on his pancakes and had to take a sip of his malt to calm the coughing.

“Although, I suppose it’s better than you walking in on us actually doing it.”

“ _Bucky!_ ”

 

Loki flew back through the spires of New York City, worry clawing at him. James was waiting for him on the roof of Avengers Tower, leaning on the railing staring out at the lowering dusk. He straightened when he saw Loki, a grin brightening his face. He took a couple steps back and waved, and he would not do that if Loki’s welcome was uncertain. Relief washed over him, and he shifted before he had quite reached head-height, dropping into James’ arms as he landed on the roof.

“You can stay,” were the first words out of James’ mouth. The second, after they had kissed with Loki’s hands in his hair, were, “Welcome home.”

Loki beamed at him. “I am glad to be home.”

James took him to their floor, saying, “Oh, wait here,” when they had reached the bedroom. Going back to the laundry closet in the hallway, he pulled their softest blanket out of the dryer. Then he draped it over Loki’s shoulders, engulfing him in warmth. Loki stared at James, incredibly touched. Then he tackled him into a hug that landed both of them on the bed.

“I love you.”

Now it was James’ turn to beam. “Love you, too.” He made them comfortable, tucking the blanket around their bodies and tangling their legs together. “So, how did your trip go?”

Loki told him everything. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of the way James listened to him.

When he was done, James said, “My only question is are you okay?”

“Better for being here,” Loki replied, smiling.

“Good,” James smiled back. “Are you ready to hear the results of my conversation with Steve now?”

“Tell me.”

“So, he’s worried about upholding Asgardian justice, since the whole reason they’d been experimenting with the Tesseract lately was because that incident in New Mexico got SHIELD and the world government scared and we don’t wanna go making enemies. But he’s also never had a problem breaking the rules when they get in the way of what he thinks is right, an’ he’ll always go for the underdog. So the upshot, since I don’t know too much about Asgardian politics, is that you can stay for now but he wants to talk to you before he makes a final decision. Only problem is, he’s always been terrible at lying to keep a secret. He’ll do his best, but eventually somebody else in this tower’s gonna notice.”

Loki nodded. “Will he speak for me?”

“Not right away? But I think he’s interested enough to argue for hearing you out.”

“That may be enough. Thor will be the biggest concern, and we must prevent him from acting before I can speak. It may be better to simply reveal my presence to everyone, and answer the Captain’s questions then.”

 

Bucky stood nervously outside the conference room door, cradling Loki. Steve had called a team meeting at his request, and they’d waited to be the last to arrive. Loki licked his chin, and Bucky smiled at him, taking a deep breath. He walked into the room to find the Avengers ranged around the table, two seats left open at one end.

Right as he entered, Clint asked, “So what’s the meeting about, Cap, that we have to come with an ‘open mind’?”

“Well, it’s not really my meeting. It’s Bucky’s.”

All eyes swiveled to him, and he managed a half-smile. “Yeah, it’s about my cat.”

He put Loki down, who promptly transformed. “Hello again.”

If Bucky had not been so jittery that he wouldn’t have trusted himself to accurately fire a rifle on a tripod, the shocked faces of the Avengers would have been funny. He noted distractedly that Loki was wearing the shirt Bucky had given him.

Everyone seemed to start talking at once, but Thor’s voice boomed over the others as he shot to his feet, chair flying back. “Loki! What is the meaning of this?”

Loki smirked, although Bucky could see the tension around his eyes. “You really must work on your incentives. Did you truly think the promise of being returned to my cell would ensure my compliance?”

“I watched you die!” Thor stormed around the table.

“Please, that one fractured my spine in several places and I am still here.” Loki nodded at Bruce, who blanched. He slipped his thumbs out of his sleeves, flexing his fingers and not taking his eyes off of Thor. “You are quite gullible, and I did pretend to betray you. It was only fitting.”

“Have you not betrayed me by coming here, amongst my friends and shield-mates? Insinuating yourself within the protectors of this Realm? What are you planning, Loki?”

“You really should know better than to ask me that directly.”

Thor reached for Mjolnir, but before he could lift it, Loki flung a hand towards his chest, pivoted, and slammed Thor into the wall with magic, pinning him there. He stalked forward, hand extended, naked fury and hurt on his face. Thor fought to free himself, struggling in vain.

“All my life, you and your _father_ ,” Loki spat the word, “have used and discarded me, and the moment my actions are no longer under his control I am deemed a threat while you get off with a slap on the wrist and nothing changes.” Loki paused, glaring. Then, tilting his head, he asked, “Did you know Odin wanted to kill me? Did you know I asked him to?”

Thor’s eyes widened. “You…asked?”

“And Odin refused so he could remind me that he holds my life in his hands and I should be _grateful_ because he made the _benevolent_ decision to take me off of Jotunheim as a baby. He has never treated me differently than a monster that would eat naughty Aesir children. Tell me _why_ I should not want to die rather than set foot on Asgard again.”

Thor struggled to speak. “That…does not change the fact that your actions have brought death and destruction across the Realms. Justice must be done for them.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you know all about my actions given that I was not present for my farce of a trial and no one was present to witness my sentencing,” Loki sneered. “If Odin truly valued justice rather than peace and quiet, would your treason have even been necessary?” He turned to look over the other Avengers then, switching hands to hold Thor up. “All of you have blood on your hands.” His gaze lingered on Bruce, then Natasha, holding her eyes. “Is it not the point of this group to redeem your debts?”

Natasha inclined her head a fraction in acknowledgement, but did not speak. Steve was frowning heavily. Clint had his arms folded, and next to him, Bruce seemed a little green around the edges. Sam was looking between Thor and Loki, while Tony looked like he was trying to figure several things out but couldn’t quite get any of them.

Thor thrashed against Loki’s magic again. “Do not fall for his words, he is planning something!”

“I thought the two of you were supposed to be brothers,” Sam spoke up.

“Yes, you do not know him as I do,” Thor insisted.

Bucky figured it was time for him to step in. Loki had switched back to Thor and was about to retort, but he stopped when Bucky took his free hand. He looked steadily at Thor, and he knew there was something disconcerting in his gaze that had not been there before HYDRA. “I know he helped me get through my nightmares and panic attacks when he didn’t have to. I know he put his freedom and his life in danger to stay with me, and he did it more than once. I know he protected me, and that he cares about me. I know he likes really dark chocolate, and art history, and _Blade Runner_ , and drying the dishes after they’ve been washed. I know what he looks like when he’s lying. What do you know about him?”

Loki dropped Thor, folding into Bucky’s arms. Bucky held him and glared at Thor over his shoulder as he picked himself up off the ground.

“Right, family drama is all well and good,” Tony interrupted, “but why weren’t we alerted about this months ago? I scanned you, like, the first day you were here.”

Bucky answered while Loki got himself under control. “We asked JARVIS not to tell.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “JARVIS, have you been keeping things from me?” he demanded. “Have you been _lying?_ ”

“I simply did not feel that this information was urgent enough to prioritize, sir,” JARVIS replied blandly from the ceiling.

Tony clapped a hand over his heart, looking to the ceiling as though with tears in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, buddy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Right, why don’t we all sit down and discuss this without resorting to bodily harm.”

They sat, Bucky placing himself between Loki and the rest of the Avengers, and Thor returning sullenly to his seat. Tony leaned onto the table to peer at Loki’s face from around Bucky. Loki raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, JARVIS,” Tony said distractedly, “display footage of Loki from the invasion.” The projector in the middle of the table flickered on, showing a silent video of Loki in full armor strolling through the penthouse. “Pause that. Zoom in on his face.” He frowned between the still and Loki, before pointing triumphantly at him. “Your eyes are green.”

Loki smiled wanly. “Indeed.”

“What are you seeing, Stark?” Natasha asked.

Tony enlarged the image. “Look at this. His eyes were blue during the invasion.”

There was a collective double checking of Loki’s eye color. “That’s not the same blue as the rest of us, though,” Clint pointed out.

“I was being monitored,” Loki explained, “rather than fully controlled.” He looked at Thor. “You knew I was working for someone else.” Thor nodded grudgingly. “You did not ask if I did so willingly. My actions and surface thoughts were limited if I wanted to remain in control of my mind, but in truth I was playing both sides. I knew the invasion would never work,” he acknowledged to Tony. “I intended it not to, but I had to seem as if I believed it would.” Loki turned to Clint then. “My apologies that your enthrallment was necessary.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “I still don’t like you.”

“That is fair.”

Bucky had already heard the answers to the questioning session that followed, albeit in a more broken up, emotionally raw manner. He interjected when it was relevant, but mostly he held Loki’s hand underneath the table. The humans were naturally disapproving of Odin’s judicial methods, but less willing not to respect Asgardian sovereignty. The conversation eventually stalled on the question of Loki’s trustworthiness. The only corroboration they had for much of what he claimed was Thor’s word, but the biases of the two were often wildly conflicting and the Avengers had no way to assess which was more accurate. It was entirely possible that Loki was manipulating them to gain sympathy in preparation to enact some scheme. Bucky was forced to bite his tongue and let it play out. He knew he was compromised where Loki was concerned.

JARVIS finally chimed to request their attention. “If I may, I have stored some footage that may be of interest in this matter. My apologies, Sergeant Barnes and Mister Laufeyson, for recording without your permission. I thought that it might eventually become necessary.”

They glanced at each other, and Steve said, “Go ahead, JARVIS.”

The AI displayed several muted videos, looping the short clips when they finished. There was one of Loki as a cat squirming into Bucky’s arms while he was having a flashback and then staying to let Bucky play with his fur, and one of him barely holding it together until Bucky got home and then sobbing in his arms. There was one of both of them relaxed and happy as they talked, and one of Loki pacing anxiously waiting for Bucky to get home, dated to his first Avengers mission. There was the first time they kissed.

Loki tightened his grip on Bucky’s hand. “Thor, how many campaigns did you lead after the Bifrost was repaired?”

Thor turned his frown from the videos to Loki. “Three. Defending the Dwarf-king Eitri, quelling the Badoon civil war, and freeing Vanaheim of the Marauders.”

“So,” Loki summarized, speaking to all of the Avengers, “I was sentenced to a life of solitary imprisonment because I acted as an agent for the Mad Titan under threat to my life and sanity; as well as because several independent groups decided to take advantage of the instability of the Nine Realms in the wake of Thor halting actions I took as the legal King of Asgard that, while I was emotionally compromised, I believed were necessary, given that Asgard’s greatest warrior was in exile and the four next best had committed treason against me, in order to end a war that Thor started. Without Frigga to plead on my behalf, were I to be returned to Asgard, Odin would not be so lenient. You may either grant me political asylum, or condemn me to death.”

Looking directly at Thor then, he asked, “Can you kill me?”

Thor dropped his gaze, unable to meet Loki’s eyes. In the end, no one spoke against Loki remaining in the Tower.

After they had all filed out of the conference room, he leaned into Bucky, trembling minutely. Bucky rubbed his back and murmured in his ear, “Hey, _kotyenok_. We’re okay. You did it, you’re gonna be okay.” Loki transformed, climbing into his arms as a cat and pressing bodily against him. Bucky took him to one of the armchairs in the lounge, stroking his fur and rubbing his jaw and ears. He kept at it for as long as it took for Loki to start purring, the tension of the last few hours pushed aside.

When Tony came in a while later with a smoothie concoction and found them like this, he asked, “Does this count as public indecency?”

Bucky let out an “oof” as Loki transformed back into his usual self, stretching sensuously across his lap and chest with a smirk.

“Not yet.”

Tony snorted. “Unfortunately for you, I am in a happily committed relationship.” He took a drink of his smoothie, then gestured with his cup. “So, if you’re gonna stay in the Tower, do I get to throw you out of a window? ‘Cause I gotta say, I was kinda disappointed I’d never get the chance to when Thor said you were dead.”

“I hardly think so. I have already fallen from the eightieth floor, and I have no wish to repeat the experience.”

“What, you have? How? When? It doesn’t count if I don’t know about it.”

“I was unaware of your primitive energy barrier and teleported into it.”

“JARVIS do we have footage of this?” Tony demanded.

“It is possible, sir.”

A light went on in Tony’s brain. “Wait, is _that_ why you were annoyed with me that day?”

“We really must talk about your attempts to recreate magic via technology.”

Bucky patted Loki on the back. “Well, if you two are going to bond over the nature of space-time, I’m going down to the gym to kick Steve’s ass, since he won last time. I’ll see you later?”

Loki kissed him, grinning. “You will."


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because I live to make sure Age of Ultron happens differently in my fics

Loki flew over the battlefield, rolling his eyes internally when Iron Man bounced off of the force field around the castle and swore. He caught up by the time Tony had disabled it, entering the base without a hitch and shifting into his wolf as he landed. This was his second mission as part of the Avengers team, and he was still nervous about leaving James, but this base in Sokovia was the last HYDRA stronghold and Thanos’ scepter was most likely here, so they needed him. He followed behind as Iron Man fought his way through the guards to the basement where the experimental technology was kept. Once there, Tony stepped out of his armor, leaving it in sentry mode. Loki padded along silently as he looked around.

“Hey, how come I did most of the fighting back there?” Tony whispered to him.

Loki huffed, not bothering to answer. The gutted Leviathan carcass was giving him chills. His senses pricked as Tony found the scepter and went to retrieve it. Someone else was here.

He shifted fluidly as the girl approached Tony from behind, catching her hand and extinguishing her scarlet magic with his own. “I do not think so.”

At his back, Tony jumped, whipping around. “Jesus!”

The girl’s eyes widened when she realized her spell had not worked, and she lashed out. Her power was untempered, and Loki deflected it easily, binding her hands behind her back as he knocked her to the ground. He bound her ankles as well, then took two quick steps out of her range as she screamed. He threw out a web of magic, and a silver-haired boy suddenly became visible as he fell to the ground immobilized, his muscles gone limp mid-stride.

“Pietro!” the girl screamed again.

“What the hell,” Tony demanded.

Loki considered the two of them, the girl struggling against her bonds but unable to break free of his magic, and Pietro staring back at her, terrified in his paralysis. “It seems they have been experimented on using the Mind Stone.” He turned to lift the scepter out of its stand, stashing it in a pocket dimension. Looking back at the two on the floor, he sighed. “I suppose this means I am on babysitting duty. Lovely.”

 

Bucky went down to the lab to retrieve his boyfriend and Tony. The team was waiting on them to debrief about what to do with the Mind Stone and the twins Loki had captured. They’d gone to the lab so Loki could separate the Stone from the scepter and break it out of the casing Thanos had placed it in, but that had been an hour and a half ago, and they’d said it wouldn’t take that long. Bucky walked in to find Loki seated on one of the workbenches, throwing a dried blueberry at Tony’s head.

“Oh, come on,” Tony complained jokingly as he ducked, leaning against a table. “That’s gonna get in a corner somewhere and grow mold and then DUM-E’s gonna spray the fire extinguisher at it ‘cause he doesn’t know what else to do with it.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you gave your incompetent robot a fire extinguisher.”

“Don’t say that, he’s _special_.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked, trying not to be too amused by their banter. He leaned against Loki’s side with an arm around his waist, taking some of the handful of blueberries Loki had cupped in his palm. “I thought you were doing stuff with the scepter.”

“Yes, that is done,” Loki said, waving at a pentacle surrounded by various runes and sigils drawn on a piece of poster paper. Next to it sat a box containing the glowing yellow Mind Stone strung on a chain and the now powerless scepter. “However, Tony still refuses to believe that there is a mind-brain dualism.”

“Look, all I’m saying is monism is the prevalent theory in the fields of psychology and neurology,” Tony argued.

“And Midgardian science is hardly advanced relative to the rest of the galaxy. That the mind is something more than the sum of the brain it is produced by is a fundamental assumption of magic. There are multiple schools of practice that would not function at all if this were not true.”

Bucky gave in and laughed. “Well, we’re all waiting for you, so maybe you could continue this debate later.”

“I suppose.” Loki hopped off the workbench, eating the rest of his blueberries. His arm settled comfortably around Bucky’s shoulders.

“We really should get Jane in on this,” Tony mused, following them out. “I’ve been trying to get her to move in for months. Now she can have interesting science she can’t get anywhere else _and_ her boyfriend.”

 

Loki stood looking down at Wanda, his arms folded. Her hands were pinned behind her back again and she’d struggled her way out of the seated position she’d started in so that now she was stuck lying on the floor, her chin propped on the mats so she could glare up at him in frustration. She concentrated and Loki could feel it pushing against his mind. This was taking so long. She obviously wasn’t getting it, it was too hard. Maybe he should loosen her bonds, just a little bit, cut her some slack. Loki smirked as he rebuffed her, and Wanda heaved a sigh.

The Mind Stone had given Wanda incredibly strong, if limited, abilities. She could exert exceptional force on physical objects with her thoughts and she could influence the minds of others so completely that her target would be unaware of anything else, but she was untrained. What control she had she’d gained through simply fighting not to be destroyed by her own power. When Loki had first started teaching her, it hadn’t taken him long to learn how to resist her attempts to terrify him. Once he was no longer afraid, their sparring ended quickly with Wanda immobilized on the ground, fuming at having been unable to score a single hit against him.

“You use fear because you are afraid,” he had told her. “Master your fear and you will master your power.”

After that, she had allowed him to teach her meditation, and how to use it to tap into the reservoir of her power. He’d changed the format of their sessions, too, challenging her to break free of the bonds he put her in. The exercise forced her to improve her concentration and control, push the boundaries of her abilities, and use them in creative ways. He didn’t expect her to ever truly match himself, but she had already improved enough that he had to pay attention to what she was doing rather than reading a book while she struggled.

There was a knock at the door, and James stepped into  the room when Loki gave permission to enter, his hair damp from the shower after his own workout. “Hey, we’re all about to have lunch if you two want to take a break and join us.”

“Well, I suppose allowances can be made for food.”

James came to stand at his side, glancing down at Wanda on the floor. “I hope you know we’re all slightly terrified of what you’re doing in here,” he teased lightly.

“As you should be,” Loki returned with a smile. “I will make Wanda into a formidable sorceress yet.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?” James asked, his mouth curving beautifully as Loki leaned in to kiss him. James kissed back easily, and Loki found himself not wanting to let him go, lingering close just to draw it out longer, resting a hand at James’ waist. Norns, but he loved this man. He wanted to kiss James like this for the rest of his life. Loki grinned when he realized what was going on, finally pulling away.

“She is improving.”

He slid his fingers into James’ because even so, that didn’t make his feelings untrue.

**Author's Note:**

> There are a bunch of extras for this fic, which are all are posted [here](http://yumekuimono.tumblr.com/tagged/everyone-but-yourself) on my Tumblr


End file.
